


Can't Drag Me Away

by splishsplashxox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Trauma, Equestrian, Established Relationship, Felix has his shit together, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Olympics, Sylvain pretends he has his shit together, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splishsplashxox/pseuds/splishsplashxox
Summary: Sylvain Gautier has a pretty comfortable life at the moment. He is a show jumper on the rise, rides the best horse he's ever owned, and has just qualified to represent the Holy Kingdom at the next Olympic games. He's also dating the love of his life, his childhood friend Felix Fraldarius. Things are great, and Sylvain is closer to achieving happiness than he's ever been.That all changes when one journalist captures a private moment between Felix and Sylvain and outs the pair on an international scale.(Rated M, but may possibly change to E. Let's see how zesty I feel.)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Annette Fantine Dominic/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro (background), Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ashe Ubert
Comments: 23
Kudos: 96





	1. On Course

Sylvain blew a few cool breaths out of his mouth as he surveyed the arena before him. This was it, his final chance to prove himself worthy as a competitor for the Faerghus national team. He and Gal had been training for literally years to reach this point, to arrive at this jump off with only six jumps and a clear round separating them from Olympic glory.

“We’ve got this, girl,” he said into the mare’s ear as he leaned up the neck and gave her a good scratch. “Dimitri and Tiffany are fast, but we’re faster.” His eyes traced the track he intended to take as Dimitri and his big black mare took their final line.

“His Highness wishes only the best competitors move forward from here,” Dimitri’s head groom Dedue said. He waited outside the in-gate, bottle of water in hand for the prince and a mesh cooler for the horse draped over his arm. “Whether that is you or him, we are not concerned. As long as the Kingdom sends its best athletes forward, he will be pleased.”

“Uh, thanks Dedue.” Sylvain wasn’t sure how to process and react to most of the things Dedue said. Dimitri had hired Dedue when they graduated from school five years ago, but Dedue wasn’t much for competing. He seemed happier to just care for the horses. And for Dimitri.

The crowd cheered as Dimitri and Tiffany exited the arena. The in-gate manager congratulated Dimitri and signaled to Sylvain.

The two crossed left shoulder on left shoulder briefly. “Good luck,” Dimitri said. His smile was genuine.

But once Sylvain was in game mode, it was hard to hear anything that anyone else said. He talked himself through the jump-off one last time: outside line with the clock standards going away, rollback to the rainbow Swedish oxer, long approach to the first of the inside red and black line, rollback to the wishing well standards single, and finish on the second of the outside stone pillar standards. He tuned out the noise as much as possible, only focused on the announcer and the jumps in the arena.

“And finally, returning for the jump off is Galvanized Z, owned and ridden by Sylvain Jose Gautier. They had the fastest initial round at 69.06 seconds with no faults. If they can beat Dimitri’s jump off time of 31.20, they will be victorious today.” The arena was silent for just a moment while the announcer waited for the judges to give him the okay. Sylvain felt the silence hang in the air like city smog. His heart seemed to beat in slow motion. Gal was like a hot wire, sending currents of electricity into the ground with each step. Her ears were up and alert, her eyes wide as she waited for the buzzer sound that would indicate they were allowed to begin. Her silvery-gray coat was glinting under the arena lights. Sylvain breathed out again, letting his eyes wander to the outside line. Finally, the buzzer sounded.

Sylvain put his legs to the horse’s sides and shortened his reins as he lifted from the saddle, giving the mare the space she needed. “Let’s do this, Gal.” They picked up a left lead canter and moved at a comfortable pace around the arena. There was no rush; they had 45 seconds to begin the jump-off, and Sylvain was going to make sure they set the correct pace. Gal was eager but she wasn’t about to ignore Sylvain. They had spent too much time together for her to be so inconsiderate at this point.

Each jump seemed to come at the perfect spot. No distance was too short or too long. It was like the course had been set for Gal’s stride length specifically. The six-stride outside line was supposed to be easy, but it was like the line was made with Gal in mind. Sylvain tried to keep his cool as each of the jumps set up perfectly. He didn’t want to get overly excited or competitive and mess up in this, the final moment to prove his worth.

Gal cantered to each jump like it was the difference between life and death. She didn’t just want to live, though; she wanted to thrive. There was never even a chance she would pull a rail. There was always at least 18 inches of clearance between her legs and the top rail of each jump, and already these jumps were set at 1.55 meters. Gal was easily the best horse that Sylvain had ever ridden. She was going to take him to the Olympics.

As they turned to the final jump, right in front of the spectators and heading home out of the arena, Gal seemed to catch fire. Her body felt hot to the touch, even through his gloves. Sylvain breathed and looked for their distance. These stone pillar standards were as basic and inviting as they could get. The distance was there. Victory sat on the other side of the jump between the timers. It almost didn’t feel real.

Gal’s front legs lifted off the ground as Sylvain folded his body and jumped with her. His hands reached forward and pressed on her neck not for support but because he was proud. Because Gal had carried him this far and they were going to win. He didn’t even have to look at the clock display to know he was over one second ahead of Dimitri’s time. And as they crossed through the timers, Sylvain patted Gal’s neck and grinned ear to ear. “That’s my good girl,” he said.

The crowd erupted. Sylvain couldn’t stop smiling as he rode through Gal’s happy bucks. She knew she was a winner, and she wasn’t afraid to tell anyone who was listening. Finally the pair came to a trot and then a walk. The announcer called his time, 28.47 seconds, and Sylvain just laughed. He had beaten Dimitri by almost three seconds. “You’re a firecracker, Gal Pal.” He patted the mare’s neck a couple times, smiling as Dimitri and the third place competitor rejoined him in the arena for the award presentation and victory gallop.

The three riders exchanged congratulations, shaking hands awkwardly across the spaces between their horses. Ribbons were presented. They went out to the rail and galloped. Gal, as always, tried to turn it into a race and wanted to outrun the other two horses. Sylvain’s cheeks started to burn from smiling and laughing so much as he tried to slow the mare’s stride and ended up taking an extra lap in celebration.

Outside the gate stood friends and family. Dimitri dismounted and Dedue took Tiffany’s reins. Dimitri put his arm around Dedue’s shoulders and they smiled but made it clear to the journalists trying to get an interview that they weren’t interested at the moment.

Ingrid stood waiting for Sylvain, grinning ear to ear. “Well look at you, mighty conqueror! Congratulations on not fucking up.”

Sylvain dismounted and ran his stirrups up. “Where’s Ashe and,” he paused, “everyone else?” He loosened the girth so Gal had more space to breathe as they walked back to the barn.

“They’re waiting for you back at the barn, of course. Had to set up the celebration.” Ingrid looked back to ensure the reporters weren’t tailing them. “Felix is waiting somewhere a little more quiet.”

Sylvain’s heart thumped a little faster at that. Felix had never been one for crowds, but for him to miss a moment like this meant he had a good reason. “You’re never this nice to me. What’s happening?”

“Just trying to give you and Felix a little cover, that’s all.”

“Aw, I always knew you were a softie for our love.” Sylvain unclipped his helmet and shook his head to free his hair. It was still not great, but at least Felix knew to expect that at this point.  
Ashe, Sylvain’s head groom, jogged toward Sylvain, Ingrid, and Gal as soon as they came in sight. “We all knew you were going to do it!” he said. But he didn’t really say it to Sylvain. He quickly took Gal’s reins and scratched the mare’s face as he walked her forward. “Congratulations to you both.” Then he made sure to address Sylvain.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Ashe. Gal has rejected nearly everyone else on the planet, but you’re her favorite. Even more than me.” The redhead shook Ashe’s hand. “Now the real work begins, right?”

“It can wait until tomorrow. Gal needs her beauty rest tonight!” Back at the barn, Ashe immediately set to work untacking and showering the horse off. His post-show routine included a nice liniment bath and deep-tissue massage of Gal’s back and neck. She was in the best hands possible.

Sylvain embraced each of his friends and thanked them for their continued support. He submitted for the group photo under the congratulations banner that Ingrid had hung in front of Gal’s stall.

“We didn’t celebrate like this for you last weekend,” Sylvain said to Ingrid. She had qualified to represent Faerghus on the eventing team with her gelding Vertical Flier.

“Well, you’re one for parties,” she said. “Verde and I keep things quiet. It’s just how we’ve always done it. Anyways, we finished third, not first.” Ingrid was doing her best not to take Sylvain’s attention, but Sylvain would’ve been grateful for the opportunity to escape right now.

Finally, his parents arrived with champagne. And the reporters from _The Equine Chronicle_ , an international equestrian publication. Sylvain looked desperately to Ingrid.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gautier, how kind of you to bring champagne and company! Why don’t we talk over here.” She shepherded the unwanted crowd to the other end of the barn aisle. Then she shot Sylvain a look of “you owe me” before pointing in the direction he wanted to go.

Behind the next row of barns a short stroll away, Sylvain found the person he sought most. Felix stood outside a stall, his forehead pressed to Sammy’s crisp white star. The sight was enough to melt Sylvain, and he could have stayed and watched it forever if time allowed.

“Were you planning on gawking all night?” Felix asked Sylvain, though his head never left his horse’s. His voice wasn’t harsh, but that could have been for the benefit of Sammy or Sylvain.

The show jumper took that as his invitation to approach. He wrapped his arms around Felix’s midsection and rested his chin on top of Felix’s head. Felix’s body was warm against Sylvain’s.

“You haven’t even taken off your jacket or fixed your hair. Have you taken care of Gal?”

“I planned on it, but Ashe is meticulous about her and wouldn’t let me. So she is taken care of. Does that count?”

He only breathed quietly through his nose in response, a sound that was dismissive but not insulting. Felix was unusual compared to most of the dressage riders––or really riders of any discipline––at their level because he insisted on doing most of the horse care himself. It was also why his horses tried a lot harder for him. So he was never quiet about passing judgment on other riders who didn’t care for their animals.

“I missed you tonight.”

“You wouldn’t’ve been able to focus if I was standing at the in-gate.” He was still facing Sammy at this point, but his hands were now crossing his body and holding tightly onto Sylvain’s arms.

“I would’ve focused!”

“You wouldn’t have beaten the boar by nearly three seconds and won.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Sylvain couldn’t hide the grin on his face. Felix had probably watched the live stream or someone had reported the results––he made sure he knew what was happening.

Then Felix turned and pulled Sylvain close for a kiss. “I’m really proud of you.”

Sylvain tightened his grip around Felix’s midsection and picked him up, spinning them both round. “I love you,” Sylvain almost shouted.

Felix’s hand flew to Sylvain’s mouth. “Careful, they’ll hear you!” He looked anxiously in the direction of the celebration happening over at Sylvain’s row of stalls. He stared hard enough that Sylvain was certain his eyes would melt the boards between Sammy’s stall and the stall behind his.

“Sorry, sorry. But it’s true!”

Felix blushed as Sylvain finally returned him to the ground. “You should get back to your victory celebration,” he said.

“Please come with me,” Sylvain begged.

Felix laid his head into Sylvain’s chest. “You know I can’t do that.” But his voice and his gestures spoke so much louder.

“We don’t have to be couple-y. We don’t have to say anything to anyone. I just want you to celebrate with us. Your training regimen is what made the difference in my endurance. I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Gal tonight if you hadn’t gotten me in shape.”

The dark haired dressage rider drummed his fingers on Sylvain’s chest as he thought. “Just for a few minutes. I’m loading up early in the morning and heading home.”

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get.” Sylvain placed a gentle kiss on Felix’s forehead. He didn’t want to break the embrace but knew they needed to before walking back over to the party. Felix was deeply private about his personal life. Sylvain wasn’t exactly ready to deal with his parents when it came to matters of sexuality yet. Both riders were both on the uphill climb for their careers and didn’t want to risk be tokenized or face prejudice of any kind.

The two walked in silence, the distance between them magnetically charged.

Returning to the party, the reporter asked Sylvain for a few comments and a picture. He obliged but kept things short. “I’ve gotta give Gal her break at some point tonight. She’s been in the spotlight all day. She’s ready to chill.”

Sylvain did his best to focus on the interview but kept finding his eyes glancing toward the party. At least, that’s how he tried to make it look. “Our goals?” he asked, clarifying the reporter’s question. “Our goals are to keep training and succeed for the glory of the Kingdom. Prince Dimitri has been a friend of mine from childhood, so it’ll be great to compete alongside him. The rest of the nation’s competitors are fantastic athletes as well. I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone well and learning from each other.”

“Just to double check,” the reporter asked. “Is that Felix Fraldarius over there?”

“It is,” Sylvain said. “Along with Ingrid Galatea. Both of whom are also childhood friends.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t interested in answering anymore questions, especially where his friends were concerned.

“Sylvain, thank you so much for your time this evening. And congratulations again.” The reporter stood and shook Sylvain’s hand before walking away, rapidly typing something on her phone.

Shaking his head, Sylvain stood and rejoined the party. He accepted the glass of champagne from his mother, Adelaide. “Thanks for coming, Mom. Where’s Dad?”

She was dressed way too formally for a horse show, even if it was the Olympic trials. Her stiletto heels were dreadfully out of place in the rows of barns. “Guillaume and Ingrid’s father are chatting about something or another. I’m not sure. But dear, where have you been all night?” The way her words seemed to stumble into one another showed that she had had quite enough champagne for the evening.

“Mom, why don’t you sit down? Please drink some water.”

“Oh Sylvie, I’m fine!”

Sylvain didn’t remember fine being such a wet word, yet he found himself wiping away his mother’s slobber. “Alrighty.”

“Quit dodging the question.”

“Mom, I’m only qualified for the team. I haven’t actually medaled yet. Don’t get too sloppy.” He grabbed Adelaide’s half full glass of champagne and downed it before she could have anymore. Though it was likely she would only fill another glass in a moment, Sylvain wanted to get his point across.

Ashe jogged over to Sylvain. “Hey Sylvain, do you want Gal’s legs wrapped too?”

“Ashe! Just the man I wanted to see!” He grabbed Ashe’s shoulders and started walking away from his mother. “Thanks for the save by the way.”

“You looked like you needed rescuing.” Ashe’s eagle-eye for care and protection extended beyond horses. “She’s cooled out and eating some hay. Her skin seemed a little sensitive tonight, so we only did witch-hazel instead of liniment. But her legs still felt a little warm.”

“All four?” Sylvain asked. He took a drink of the champagne in his hand.

“No, just the front two.” Ashe’s tone and expression told Sylvain this was no ordinary warmth.

Sylvain suddenly found himself wishing for liquor. “Shit. Well let’s see what kind of heat we’re talking about.” He opened the stall door and let himself and Ashe into the stall. Gal briefly turned away from her hay to acknowledge their presence with her mouth full. Sylvain gave her a quick smooch on the nose. “What’s goin’ on, kiddo?” He bent at the waist and ran his hands down Gal’s legs one at a time. The front right felt hotter than the left. Sylvain thought back to their round and their jump-off. They had come down just a little hard on one of the singles into a tight rollback turn. But Gal turned like a barrel racer. She loved going for those turns and shaving time. She was a competitive horse. She was the living embodiment of “Finish the drill.” When Sylvain squeezed gently on the back of her canon bone, she winced in the tiniest way. For Gal, that was big. Gal could be bleeding out the ears and still want to work.

Ashe rubbed his hands on Gal’s cheeks while she chewed. “Any of your other horses, I wouldn’t be this worried. But Gal is never like that.”

“No, you’re right.” Sylvain adjusted his position so he was squatting on the floor instead of bent over. Was this bone or soft tissue? Was this a little ouchie or was this a long term thing? Did this warrant calling the vet now or could it wait? He obsessively felt the heat in her front legs. “Ashe, if I weren’t here tonight, what would you do?”

“Well, I’d probably use the ice boots or cold hose her legs. Maybe throw a little Bute in her grain.”

“We’re celebrating tonight. So let’s do the ice boots for a half hour and we’ll check again. You deserve a drink as much as any of us.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ashe said. He was already digging the boots out of Sylvain’s trunk in the aisle.

“I insist!” Sylvain called. He walked down to the tack stall to pull a couple of beers and the ice packs out of the cooler. When he returned to the stall, he handed Ashe one of the beers. “You’ve been the factor. You’re the one that Gal adores. You deserve some praise and glory, alright?”

Ashe’s cheeks flushed pink behind his freckles. “I wouldn’t say all that."

“You wouldn’t, but I _am_ saying it. Cheers!” He clinked his bottle to Ashe’s and loaded the ice packs into Nan’s boots before strapping them on her front legs. “You also earned a treat.” Sylvain took a sip of the beer, a dark draught from the Alliance, and poured the rest into her feed bucket. “I’m gonna get you a little extra grain tonight to go with that.”

But before Sylvain could even leave the stall, Felix had appeared with a half scoop full of Gal’s sweet feed. He handed it to Ashe over the stall door. “I thought I heard the pop of Gal’s beer.”

“Thank you,” Sylvain said. His eyes lingered a little too long on Felix.

“So, the party is dying down out there. I think I’ll go have some of that champagne before it's all gone,” Ashe said. He quickly excused himself from the stall and headed out to the dwindling victory celebration.

Sylvain leaned back against the wall and watched as Gal polished her grain bucket clean. She loved her beer, and it helped her body regulate its temperature. Sylvain stared at her legs in the ice boots, as though watching the ice would reduce swelling and remove damage.

Felix let himself in and leaned next to Sylvain. “Which leg?”

“Front right. Just some heat and tenderness. But the wincing is out of character.” He accepted the champagne that Felix offered.

“Could just be a strain. A couple days off and she’ll be fine.”

“Could be.” Sylvain drank a big gulp. His free hand reached for Felix’s, locking their pinky fingers together.

“What are you worried about?”

“She’s done the tendon before. When she was really young, before we bought her. It’s why her purchase price was so low. They didn’t expect her to come this far.”

“But she has. You’ve gotten her this far. Remember our promise?”

“That’d we get to the Olympics together? Of course.”

“Don’t get in your head just yet. She’s just sore.” Felix sounded so sure, like always. Sylvain wanted to believe him, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	2. Excused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming out is never easy. Getting outted? Far worse. (CW: homophobic language)

Sylvain awoke the next morning with the slightest hangover. It was just enough headache to make him want to stay in bed all day. But Ashe and the team were almost done breaking down camp. The horses would be loaded soon. It was time to drive back north.

He checked his phone and the first thing he noticed was a text message from Felix. The second he noticed was that he had slept an hour past his alarm. Sylvain wanted to read the text but knew he’d be too distracted from everything else if he read that message. So after opening a beer, he pulled on some jeans and a hoodie before stepping into his boots as he stepped out the door of the camper.

“Good morning, Sylvain!” Ashe called. He waved at Sylvain as loaded one of the tack trunks into the horse van. “You feeling alright? You know, considering.”

“Considering what? This hangover?” Sylvain squinted into the sunlight as he closed the distance between himself and Ashe. Surely that beer should be doing more to relieve that hangover.

“Uh. Oh. Right.”

That was about the most evasive Ashe had ever been in conversation with Sylvain.

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with far worse.” He looked around. The show grounds were almost empty. Dimitri’s convoy was rolling out right now. It looked like Felix’s truck had cleared as well, and knowing Felix it had been early in the morning. “Are the Galateas still around?”

“I think so. Ingrid came by earlier to check on you.”

“I don’t know why everyone is so concerned. I’ve drank far worse in the past!” Sylvain walked down the barn aisle and pulled out quilts and standing wraps for his three horses––Gal, Buckingham, and Snapdragon––to wrap them up so they could be loaded in the trailer. Wrapping legs was robotic to Sylvain. He wanted to pretend that everyone wasn’t checking on him for some reason. Yes, last night had been an extraordinary party, but Sylvain wasn’t exactly a lightweight.

He was finishing Buck’s legs when his phone started vibrating in his pocket––his father was calling. Probably chastising him for hitting the road late. Sylvain decided he would answer later. But when he had two more phone calls from his father and one from his mother, he decided that maybe he should answer the next call. Thankfully it was Ingrid.

“What?” he snapped.

“Good morning to you, Sunshine!” Ingrid said. “Just checking on you.”

“Why is everyone checking on me this morning? I didn’t drink that much. Gal looks sound. I just slept in! Is that a crime?”

“While I’m glad all that is right on track, that’s not what I was referring to.”

Sylvain paused mid-wrap on Gal’s leg before quickly continuing. He didn’t want the pressure to be uneven on her legs. “So what are you referring to then? I’m about to load up and head home.”

“Have you checked _The Chronicle_ yet this morning?”

“Ingrid, I never check _The Chronicle._ Why would today be different?”

“Well, the short list for the Olympic teams was posted.”

“What, did I not make it?”

“No! That’s not it at all.” She paused. “There’s an article. About you.”

“Okay.”

“And Felix.”

Sylvain hesitated then. “Like. Separate articles?”

“No.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. You may want to give that a read. I’ll be driving about two more hours and then I’ve got three to ride later today. But call me if you need to talk, alright?”

“Thanks, Ingrid.”

# # #

Sylvain managed to wait to read until he got into the van. Thankfully, Ashe offered to drive the van and one of the grooms offered to drive the truck with the camper. Ashe was about the only other person alive that Sylvain would trust to transport his horses.

So he read quietly from the passenger seat the message from Felix: _We need to talk_. And then he opened the _Chronicle_ website on his phone. The trending headline was damning: “Gautier and Fraldarius celebrate their victories.” The picture that accompanied it was even more damning. Someone had managed to capture their private moment, when Sylvain and Felix had at last shared a kiss at the end of the day last night outside Sammy’s stall. Sylvain didn’t even bother to read the article. He switched his phone to airplane mode, hoping to avoid anymore phone calls from his parents or other concerned friends. He knew Felix would be unavailable for a few hours because this was when he rode his client horses, assuming he was riding today.

“I wish I knew what to say,” Ashe said. He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand reached out and squeezed Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain smiled back weakly as he tried to sink lower in the seat. He was glad that the he had sunglasses on so that Ashe didn’t have to see the tears welling in his eyes. “This wasn’t how I wanted to come out.”

“It’s not right, what they did.”

“Clever of them to write ‘staff photographer’ instead of the photographer’s name. That way I don’t know whose ass I need to kick.”

Ashe smacked his fist on the steering wheel. “It’s just lazy journalism. They’re looking for something to drive traffic to their website! Why not talk about the fact that half of the competitors at trials were doping their horses inappropriately? Did you see the big chestnut who took third last night? The poor thing was lame on three legs and they’re jumping grand prix with it! Or how about the cash that exchanged hands between Ingrid’s father and the stewards? But no, they chose to focus on invading your privacy! And Felix’s! There was any number of things to practice some gotcha journalism, and they chose to embarrass two highly respectable equestrians.”

“Ashe,” Sylvain said. He wasn’t sure what to address. As much as Ashe was his friend, he was also an employee. But Sylvain had no idea that the Galateas were bribing officials. How had Ashe found that out? “Why didn’t you say anything to the stewards? Especially about welfare.”

“No one respects the grooms. Most steward inquiries get waived at the bigger shows, anyways. People complain that the stewards invade their privacy and that’s why they don’t do as well and then the board members at these big shows have to beg people to come back.”

“Did you see anyone suspicious around the barn last night?”

“Not a soul.” Ashe looked distraught.

“It’s not your fault. Felix told me we were being risky. I should have listened.” Sylvain blinked a tear away. It wasn't clear if it was frustration or fear, but the tear was out of character. “Assuming he ever speaks to me again, we can maybe work this out. Try to recover.”

“He’ll talk to you. You’ll work it out.” Ashe sounded sure. “He’d miss Gal too much to stay away.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Ashe, I’m so glad you’re around.”

# # #

They had scarcely rolled back on the property before Sylvain’s parents approached them on the golf cart. Sylvain wasn’t looking forward to this. He wanted to focus on getting his horses settled back in at home, make sure Gal’s leg was fine, and call Felix in private. Moving into the barn apartment after graduation with Ashe had been one of his best decisions. But his parents still meddled often. They still lived half an acre up the hill.

“Ashe, will you take care of the horses? I’ll handle the pest problem.” Sylvain let himself out of the van once Ashe had parked. Reaching into his pocket, Sylvain pulled out a flask and braced himself for the worst of it.

Adelaide looked like she had been crying for a few hours. She said nothing.

Guillaume entered the conversation, shouting already. “Just what in the hell kind of stunt are you trying to pull? We didn’t raise you like this, Sylvain. What are you doing with your life, son?” He was redder than the same red hair that crowned both his sons’ heads. “You are squandering every opportunity I have busted my back to give you. I sent you to the finest schools. I brought in top trainers. I imported horses. I helped you make connections. And you’re just going to throw it away to be a faggot?”

Sylvain stared Guillaume down, feet rooted to the ground and eyes unblinking. He had no intention of entertaining such a reactionary conversation with anyone but especially not Guillaume. Instead he took another drink from his flask and let the pleasant burn of Fireball carry him through the berating.

“We already lost Miklan to degeneracy and drugs. And now here you are, a degenerate in your own special way and drinking like a damned fish. What else are you doing in that apartment? Are you doing drugs? You’re a disgrace!” He waved his arms like a car dealership attractant. “You just had to have your own spotlight, didn’t you? It wasn’t enough to be a professional horse rider. No, you had to go and be a fairy too. I don’t even know who you are anymore, Sylvain! You just blindsided your poor mother and me.”

Adelaide stood by in silence, occasionally letting out a sob or maybe a yelp. She didn’t turn toward Sylvain even once.

“So this is how you thank me for everything I’ve done for you? Everything I’ve give you? You ungrateful little shit!” Guillaume slapped Sylvain across the face, his wedding band grabbing and taking some of the skin on his cheek.

Face stinging, Sylvain “May I speak now?” He waited a moment before sending the hurt right back to Guillaume. “This changes nothing about my character. My horses are all in exceptional condition. Unlike Miklan, I’m not doping myself or the horses. In case you forgot, I just qualified for the Olympics. Not many people get to say that. You know that Gal and I are favorites to bring home the gold for both individual and team, right?” He whipped off his sunglasses. “And another thing. Don’t tell me you’ve been blindsided when you never even asked. There are worse people I could love than Felix Fraldarius. Far worse. I’m not asking you to be happy for me. I’m just asking you to let me live my life.”

He stormed into the barn before Guillaume had a chance to say anything else. Or before they had a chance to see Sylvain show an ounce of weakness.

Ashe waved his hand away. “I got this. Head upstairs.”

Sylvain didn’t argue. He climbed the stairs two at a time and headed to his room to get some space. Once inside, he turned off the airplane mode on his phone and waited for the many calls and text messages to inevitably flood in. His phone briefly froze with the flood of incoming notifications of texts and voicemails and various social media messages. Sylvain left his phone on the bed and walked to the bathroom, gripping the sink tightly while he considered all that had happened in the past 24 hours. He had won one of the biggest and most intense grand prix he had ever entered last night, against Dimitri to boot. He was on his nation’s Olympic show jumping team. He had potentially gotten ahead of an injury on Gal’s leg. He had been outted on an international level. He had confronted his parents about their apparent homophobia. And now? It was barely three in the afternoon and all he wanted to do was sleep.

His phone started to ring on the bed once more, and Sylvain was tempted to ignore it. Still, hoping it might be Felix, he checked anyways. It was a surprise to see Dimitri’s name appear on screen instead. “Well, to what do I owe this honor, Your Highness?”

Dimitri sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “Hi, Sylvain.”

“Let me guess. You just wanted to call and check on me after some reporter dragged mine and Felix’s names through the mud and some skeezy photographer was hiding somewhere and happened to invade our privacy.”

Sylvain could picture that shocked face Dimitri always made, where he physically lifted his head up and back and his eyes got wide and his mouth got small. Like a child making their first attempt at painting a legitimate portrait. “More or less, that.”

“Oh, Dimitri, I’m doing just swell. Thanks for asking.”

“Look, you don’t have to be so condescending. I’m just worried. Is there anything I can do? I can have the article taken down.”

“The damage is done already. Don’t go censoring media on my behalf. But thank you all the same. Sincerely.”

Dimitri was quiet a moment, though the tension in his throat was palpable even through the phone. “How did your parents take it?”

“We had an argument, but they at least waited until we were home. But they’re cooling off now, I guess.” He rubbed his right cheek, which wasn’t stinging much now, but there was still a little blood.

“You’re handling this…surprisingly well!”

“Uh, thank you? I think.” Sylvain laid back on his bed, letting his legs flop out corner to corner. “I mean, it’s basically out of my control at this point. So I’m just trying to roll with the punches as they hit.”

“I’ve gotta go. But please let me know if there’s something I can do. And Sylvain?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being the first to come out.”

“Wait, Dimitri, what do you––” The line was already dead. That prince was rather enigmatic for someone so painfully obvious about most things. Sylvain pondered Dimitri’s gratitude as he tossed his phone from hand to hand. The rhythm was consistent and reliable until there was a knock on the door and Sylvain ended up dropping his phone on his face. It smacked between his eyebrows and landed hard on the bridge of his nose, instantly bringing tears to his eyes as the pain struck.

“Ashe?” Sylvain called.

“No, it’s Mercedes!”

“Please, come in!” Sylvain jumped to his feet and opened the door. He folded Mercedes into a hug. “What are you doing here? My herd’s all up to date on vaccines and vet checks!”

“Well, Ashe texted me last night and asked if I might be able to come in the next few days to check on Gal. But given everything, I thought I should come check on you too.” She eyed his face carefully, letting her eyes linger on his cheek for a moment. The tears he tried to blink away didn't help his case.

“Mercy, how did I get so lucky to have a vet who provides human house calls too?”

“You mean like every other large animal vet in the nation?”

“Yes, but the difference is you’ve known me for a decade now.” Mercedes and Sylvain (and Ashe and Dimitri and Dedue and Felix and Ingrid and several other good friends) had all gone to college together at a small equestrian college. It was just lucky for Sylvain that Mercedes had decided to practice up on this end of Faerghus.

“Come talk while I check on Gal.” Mercedes grabbed Sylvain’s hand and pulled him downstairs.

Ashe already had Gal in the aisle. He held the end of her lead rope and fiddled with it like a nervous parent. “She was fine when we loaded this morning, but she came off the trailer with the heat back in the leg. And she’s bobbing her head. S he never shows signs of pain,” Ashe said.

Mercedes stepped back and asked Ashe to trot Gal away and back, a basic lameness exam for her own eyes. “Have you talked to Felix yet?” Mercedes asked while she carefully observed Gal’s movement.

“Not since last night. He’s probably working with client horses right now.”

“You should call him,” Mercedes said. “There––that flinch. Let’s ultrasound the leg.”

“Can we just flex it?” Ashe asked.

“An Olympic athlete deserves the best!” And Mercedes twirled her way back to her truck to pull out the ultrasound machine.

Sylvain could feel the vet bill adding up quickly. He took another drink from the rapidly emptying flask.

Mercedes pulled a syringe and drew some Acepromazine, a fast acting tranquilizer, in case Gal decided to fuss.

Ashe quickly stepped in. “I think she’ll be fine without the Ace. She’s probably still a little dehydrated from the drive this morning. I don’t want to make it worse with tranquilizers too.”

“Then you get to pay to replace the ultrasound machine!” Mercedes said with a cheery grin. Her tone did not joke around.

Ashe smirked when Gal held still like a perfect angel.

“Yeah, my horse and my groom are the absolute greatest,” Sylvain said.

“Go clean up your face,” Mercedes said. “Ashe and I have this under control.”

Sylvain did as he was told and headed back upstairs. He ran the sink water until it was lukewarm and did a simple rinse of the exposed flesh. It didn’t look too bad, at least not as bad as Sylvain had received over his lifetime. He was tired of everyone fussing over him today. The bleeding had stopped, and this likely wouldn’t scar. Before returning to the vet consult, Sylvain refilled his flask with some more Fireball. He had a feeling the news was not good.

Mercedes’s expression mirrored that hunch. “It’s looking like this could be the digital flexor.” Mercedes glared at the monitor screen as though she could change the results by pure spite.

Yesterday had been _such_ a great day. How could today have been so opposite? Sylvain swore loudly and marched down the aisle so as not to disturb the horses too much when he threw his phone a short distance. Something needed to break, and he didn’t want it to be something that would face irreparable damage. Phones could be replaced. “Fuck!” he shouted. Then he collected the undamaged phone and himself before returning to Mercedes and Ashe. “Stall rest? Hand walking? How severe are we talking here?”

“Well tendons are different than ligaments. We need to see if this is chronic or temporary. Let’s start with two weeks stall rest. Ice twice a day for no more than 20 minutes. You can hand walk and graze her for 20 minutes too.”

“And then?”

“We’ll see if she is sound after a couple days of light work. This is going to be touch and go for a while. It’s not necessarily a career ender. But it may be the end of her Olympic run, at least for these games.”

Sylvain had to work to restrain himself from swearing loudly again. “Gal, you’re going to be the end of me.”

“Don’t worry too much yet, Sylvain. At least not about Gal. If you haven’t heard from Felix within the hour, I’d start to worry.” Mercedes left some herbs with Ashe to add to Gal’s grain, just to help calm her down while she was on stall rest.

“We can do this,” Ashe assured Sylvain. He led Gal back into her stall and slipped her halter off. “We’ve handled plenty of other injuries.”

Sylvain stared down the aisle and out to the open field next to the barn.

“You alright?”

“How could this all have flipped so quickly, Ashe? Yesterday was one of the best days of my life.”

“Like I said, we can do this.”

Sylvain offered Ashe the flask, who politely declined, before chugging it. “I’m glad you’re right about everything, but I don’t have quite the usual confidence about this.”

“Then I’ll have enough for both of us.”

# # #

Sylvain checked his phone again, but the thing had been silent for a few hours. He and Ashe had made some dinner. Ashe’s plate was nearly empty, but Sylvain poked around. Most of his meals consisted of moving food around from one side of the plate to the other. Neither ever spoke much over dinner since they spent most of their days working together. Once the meal was done, they cleaned their dishes and then typically separated for the night. Sometimes Sylvain would go out. Sometimes Ashe might watch a movie in the living room. But generally they both kept to themselves after eight at night.

“You should call him at this point,” Ashe said as he finished loading the dishwasher.

Sylvain stopped sweeping under the table. “Hm?”

“You never texted him back this morning. You need to call him. He’s probably reading into your radio silence and interpreting all the wrong things.”

“Oh gods, I’m an idiot. Ashe, whatever you need from me in life ever is yours. You can’t leave this job. You’re the only one who can wrangle my brain cells into working.”

Ashe laughed. “Go on. Go call him. I’m gonna go do night check and ice Gal’s leg.” He left the apartment and walked straight downstairs.

Sylvain walked to his room and steeled his nerves before dialing Felix’s number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this one was painful to write and edit and revise. I'll make up for it next chapter, promise! I should have that ready to post on Monday. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! It has been helpful!


	3. Begin at C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want to be immature, Sylvain? Fine. Felix is gonna come fix stuff up. He's gonna fix your horse and your parents and basically your life. (This chapter did bump up the rating for some spicy sauce, so enjoy that.)

Sylvain wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified when Felix didn’t answer initially. For not texting back literally all day, especially at such a time with such a message, was sure to put Sylvain in some serious trouble. So Felix not answering right away could be perceived as avoiding the scolding for now. Alternatively, he could’ve pissed Felix off badly enough that Felix never wanted to hear from Sylvain again or at least for a few days.

The possibilities changed once more when Felix texted _I’ll call in five minutes._

He always texted in complete sentences. Always. It was as reliable as torrential rain in the Great Tree Moon, especially if Sylvain was competing in the 50,000G Grand Prix the first weekend of the month.

So when Felix called back in just over four minutes, Sylvain was slightly relieved. Felix was acting completely within his normal behavior. But the nerves set in quickly, like when he galloped up to a puissance wall. His heart beat in his throat. Still, he answered. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Felix said. His voice was not quite flat but still engaged, like most any other day.

“How are you?” Sylvain asked.

Felix was silent, likely organizing his thoughts before sharing them. “Surprisingly okay.”

“Really?”

“My dad and I had a long talk when I got home this morning. He’s still pissed, but he’s not planning on disowning me or anything.” Sylvain could hear the sound of hose water filling buckets in the background. He was probably doing night check on his own herd right now. “He said I could have worse taste in men.”

“Oh gods, am I dying? Did I just hear _the_ Felix Hugo Fraldarius share a joke with me?”

“Fuck off. It was my dad’s joke.”

“Which makes it all the more shocking, and you know it.”

Felix chuckled quietly. Sylvain found himself envious that things had gone so much better for Felix today. But Felix and his father had always had a different relationship than Sylvain and his parents. Rodrigue knew he could have been a better father to Felix in his childhood, so he spent most of their adult relationship trying to make up for that. “How did your folks take it?”

“Oh, just fantastic.” Sylvain stood and walked to the kitchen, deciding that he needed something stronger than beer to get through this conversation.. “They practically intercepted the whole damn van as soon as Ashe and I pulled on the property. Spent about a half hour arguing with them before Mercedes showed up to check on Gal.” He rubbed his cheek, which had started flaring its own heat much like his mare’s leg.

“How’s Gal?”

Sylvain was glad for the change in topics, though that front was about as positive as the previous. “Looks like it’s a flexor tendon. We’re approaching slowly. Two weeks of stall rest and ice.” He took a big chug of his drink. “So yeah. I’ve had better Sundays.”

“Have you thought about who would replace her?”

“I can’t do this without Gal. She’s why I’ve gotten this far!” Sylvain settled on vodka, since he wanted to conserve the Fireball whiskey a little longer.

“Sylvain––”

“No, absolutely not. She’s earned her right to go to the Olympics. We’ve both worked too hard for this.”

“Buckingham has shown some promise.”

“Buckingham just wants to do the puissance. He thinks full courses are stupid. Even if we work through a grid with more than three jumps, he just quits.”

“Alright. What about Snapdragon?”

“She’s just not ready. She can clear the height and the spread of five-star jumps, but she’s just not ready for the crowds or the pressure.”

“Any client horses? Or connections to something that could keep pace with the competition?”

“Felix. Gal has earned this. I’m not going without her.”

Felix was quiet a moment. “Do you still have those temporary stalls?”

“Huh? The tent? Why?”

“Because if you’re not going to the games without Gal and I’m not going without you, then I guess I’m coming to help rehab.”

Sylvain stopped mid-sip. “Really?”

“Annette and I will be there tomorrow morning. Plan on 11:30.”

“Felix, you don’t have to do this for me. Really. Ashe and I have it covered. And Mercedes is just down the road if I need her.”

“It’s not for you,” he was quick to say. “I’m not missing out on my first games because you’re being childish. And you said so yourself that my training regiment is what made the difference for you last night.”

“Whatever helps you justify the trip,” Sylvain said. He felt like himself for the first time in hours.

“11:30. That tent better be ready. I’m bringing Sammy, my new prospect, and my three client horses.”

“Felix?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Shouldn’t you be prepping your barn for five horses tomorrow morning?”

“Good night, Felix.” The line clicked. Sylvain jumped to his feet and bounced downstairs barefoot. “Ashe! Do you want a late night or an early morning?”

Ashe was cold hosing Gal’s legs as she stood in the crossties. “Everything okay?”

“You know. The night has really made up for this day.” He stood in front of Gal, carefully keeping distance between the reach of her front legs and his bare feet. His long arms allowed him to easily reach Gal and gently pet her soft nose. “Felix and Annette are coming tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Ashe asked. He checked his watch, ever vigilant to Gal’s care.

“Yeah. They’re bringing five horses.”

“Ah. So we’re setting up the temporary stalls.”

“I can probably do it.”

“Well, you may want some boots before you drop a tent pole and break your foot.” Those poles were massive, and the partitions between stalls even moreso. 

“Oh, right.” Sylvain was shocked the cool Faerghus night hadn’t frozen his toes. He was just so excited that Felix was coming.

Ashe checked his watch again. “I’ve got ten more minutes here on Gal’s leg. Once that’s done, let’s get the stalls up tonight. I can bed everything down in the morning after I feed and turn out.”

“If you’re sure, then let’s get to it.” Sylvain dashed back upstairs to pull on his work boots. He checked his phone again, debating on if he should inform his parents. But perhaps they had heard enough serendipitous news today. They’d be a lot less likely to kick Felix out than simply deny Sylvain’s request.

# # #

When Ashe’s alarm went off at seven to feed the horses, Sylvain joined him. “Oh! Did I wake you?” Ashe asked. His eyes hovered over the ugly bruise on Sylvain’s cheek for a moment.

“Too anxious. Time’ll pass faster if I just help you out.” Sylvain thought about the last time his father had left a bruise on his body. This might be the first Ashe had seen. He unlocked the feed room door and started soaking alfalfa cubes for the two retirees, his old gelding Kash and Miklan’s horse Parfait. Miklan had been gone for years, but the family never got rid of Parfait for some reason. She seemed to have more of a permanent place here than Miklan or Sylvain ever had.

Ashe pulled down a fresh bale of orchard hay and a fresh bale of alfalfa. He had really tweaked the feeding program when he was hired five years ago, and the results spoke for themselves. Every horse maintained good weight and their coats dappled out nicely. They never seemed lethargic. Ashe was actually a feeding wizard.

Sylvain started distributing supplements into the feed buckets. “Do you think this is a bad idea?” he asked aloud. It was hard to tell if he was asking Ashe or himself or the universe. He ran a hand through his firey hair, trying to spark some thought in his sleepy brain.

“I think that you’ve got a lot to deal with right now,” Ashe said. He was distributing hay through the barn. As he threw flakes of hay into each stall, Ashe greeted each horse by name. “Good morning, Gal.” “How are you, Buck?” “Hello, Flame!” “You look sleepy, Snaps.” “Kash, your cubes are coming!” Sylvain knew he had made the right call hiring Ashe to be the barn manager and head groom.

“I mean, ‘a lot’ barely covers it. But that doesn’t quite answer the question.” Sylvain started distributing the morning grain to each horse, doing a quick visual check along the way.

“What did you talk about last night?” Ashe was storing what hay remained from the bales in the feed room, speaking just barely loud enough that Sylvain could hear him out in the barn aisle.

“His dad took it better than my parents did. And that he was coming here to help rehab Gal.” Sylvain made sure Parfait and Kash’s alfalfa cubes were wet enough for the horses’ safe consumption as they ate.

Ashe pondered as he started refilling water buckets in each stall. He cast his pale green eyes up toward the rafters, pursing his lips in thought. “Well, then it sounds like you haven’t really talked about it.”

“That’s not fair. I mean, we spent a while on the phone and…” Sylvain replayed the conversation in his mind. “And we absolutely never talked about it.” He started on the far end of the barn with a hard brush in hand to groom the horses..

Ashe soon reached the stall Sylvain stood in and started topping off the water bucket. “So logically, you still need to talk about it.” Ashe maintained his facial expression, but everything in his tone said ‘no offense boss, but you’re kind of stupid.’ And he wasn’t wrong.

“When we weren’t busy in the barn all the time at school, were you just getting a degree in counseling or something?” Sylvain left the client horse’s stall and moved to the next one. “Because you give the best life advice, and I’m pretty sure you don’t accept my insurance as a form of payment.”

Wrapping the hose up on its roll in the middle of the aisle, Ashe looked back at Sylvain sternly. “I’m an older brother. It sort of comes with the territory.” He grabbed a brush of his own and set to work down the other side of the aisle. “And besides, you’ve been coming to me with the same trouble with Felix since we were freshmen. The difference now is that I don’t have my own dorm to get a break.”

Sylvain pantomimed being stabbed in the chest. “Hurtful, Ashe! But not inaccurate.” He took a little extra care in brushing Snapdragon. The mare was only eight, her career just beginning. She could potentially be his next Olympic mount, assuming he would even get this first shot.

Across the aisle, Ashe worked his fingers through Buck’s tail to loosen a few tangles. “Right now, your concern shouldn’t even be what Felix is thinking or feeling.”

“Oh?”

“We’re not living in any old Kingdom, after all. It’s the _Holy_ Kingdom. And the Church of Seiros isn’t exactly clear on their stance regarding same-sex relationships.” He bent down to brush Buckingham’s legs, so he spoke louder for Sylvain to hear. “I’d be more concerned how the regent will take this news and how he feels it will represent the Kingdom. It doesn’t matter that you’re clearly the best, or that Felix is likely going to break the world record for highest dressage test score. What matters to him is that Faerghus gets the glory.”

Sylvain placed a quick kiss on Snapdragon’s nose before exiting the stall. He leaned against the door, turning over Ashe’s words in his mind. His usually bright smile had been replaced by a hard grimace for the better part of the last day. “You don’t think he’d actually revoke our invitations to compete?”

“I don’t know,” Ashe said. He stood across from Sylvain now, arms crossed over his chest. “He definitely has the authority to do so if he feels it’s appropriate.”

“Couldn’t Dimitri do something about it?”

“Not until he officially takes the throne.”

“Why do you know so much more about our government than the average groom?”

“Someone has to keep an eye out for you, Sylvain. Just like I did in Government during second year.”

They finished grooming all 20 horses before leading the first handful outside to be turned out. It was just after eight in the morning when the rest of the barn staff arrived.

“Obviously Gal’s not going out. Let’s give Buck and Snappy D the day off. They worked hard last week at the show. Which client horses are really needing the work?”

Ashe listed off the horses––only four, a smaller number than usual.

“Keep them in, and let’s get everyone else turned out. I can school at least two this morning, three if you help me get them warmed up. And we still need to get the temporary stalls bedded down.” Sylvain’s mind was already running through the exercises he was planning to do with the horses. Thankfully, the arena still had a small course set up. He could be done with the three horses in under two hours if he and Ashe worked together. That still gave him an hour to kill before Felix arrived, which Sylvain anticipated he’d spend either tidying up and cleaning tack or pacing the aisle in anxiety.

The mention of riding always had Ashe smiling. He didn’t compete after college, mostly because even if he had the connections and the money he just didn’t have quite the same zeal for competition the way that Sylvain did. But he loved riding and training. “Let’s do it!”

“Let’s start with Dakota and Boo. We can save Creed and Dauntless for after lunch.”

“Well, Felix and Annette arrive around lunch.”

“I rode Creed six days last week and Dauntless five days. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they got an extra day off.” Sylvain took a drink from his flask before pulling Dakota out of his stall.

“Do you ever leave that thing behind?” Ashe asked.

Sylvain was gathering tack for Dakota and Boo while trying to maintain conversation. “Thing. The flask?”

“Yes, the flask.” Ashe was picking Boo’s hooves out and inspecting for debris that could harm the horse. Once he finished the first horse, he moved to Dakota. “You don’t need to get dehydrated or anything.”

“Ashe, you’ve eaten enough meals with my family to know that the Gautiers don’t do anything sober.”

“You did win the Olympic trial sober.”

“Uh, no. Nope. I had a couple shots before riding over to the warmup ring.”

Ashe let out an exasperated huff. “Sylvain. You really shouldn’t do stupid shit like that.”

It wasn’t often that Ashe used such language, so when he did, it had quite the effect. Sylvain adjusted the saddle on Dakota’s back, ensuring the half pad and square pad were sitting right. “I mean, nothing happened.”

“Just Gal straining a tendon,” Ashe said. “Next time you could go off course or crash through a jump or fall off. There’s a lot that could go wrong.” He finished tacking Boo before heading to the tack room to get his helmet and Sylvain’s. “Why would you risk throwing away the Olympics for a buzz?”

“Alright, I get it!” And the conversation was dropped. Clipping his helmet on, Sylvain led the gelding out of the barn. Dakota was a sale horse sent to him mostly to get some more exposure in the hopes of selling him sooner. But Sylvain was also getting a 30 percent commission on the sale of the horse, so he was more than happy to take the horse over a few courses and compete in a few shows to get it sold.

Boo, on the other hand, needed some serious work. The stallion had a major attitude issue and assumed he knew best. He loved to test his riders. His behavior wasn’t unlike a certain dressage rider, though Sylvain did his best not to say anything to Felix.

“So is there anything in particular you want me to work on with Boo?” Ashe asked. He adjusted the stirrups on his saddle, checked his girth, and mounted up. Seeing as Ashe was barely 5’4” with short legs, watching him ground mount a 16-hand horse was no small feat.

Sylvain mounted Dakota and thought carefully. “He tends to run away once you start jumping around. So just keep things unpredictable. Keep him listening. Don’t let him anticipate what’s coming. Like take him over a jump or two and then walk for a while.”

Ashe nodded, already working Boo through some flatwork and transitions to supple the horse’s movements. He was quick to keep the horse in line, despite his appearance and mannerisms. Ashe was a capable rider who demanded good behavior from his mounts. Some days it surprised Sylvain that Ashe was content being a barn manager when Sylvain thought his friend could go much farther in his career.

Dakota was an absolute joy to ride compared to most of the horses Sylvain rode. Gal would always hold a special place in his heart, as would old Kash. But Dakota was just pleasant. He was comfortable and pretty to watch. It was shocking that no one had bought the horse yet.

Before too long, both riders were ready to start jumping the horses around. Sylvain practically went on autopilot since Dakota so easily performed. Spotting a distance on Dakota was as easy as spelling his own name. He pondered how to start marketing the horse to open up the stall and bring home that commission.

Then Ash started riding Boo around the course, treating each jump as though it was the only one in the arena. Sometimes he walked away and others he trotted. He threw a halt in once. Sylvain himself was unaware of what Ashe would do next, so surely Boo felt the same.

Once the horses had worked up a sufficient sweat, Sylvain felt comfortable moving on to his next ride, Archer. “Ashe, will you just stay on Boo and do some random flat work and pop him over a couple more fences before you end the ride? Like I said, we’re trying to keep him from anticipating and turning into a runaway train.”

“Noted.” Ashe halted Boo in his tracks and started backing the horse up before moving immediately into a trot. Boo was clearly flabbergasted but listening to Ashe’s soft hands and soft seat and decisive legs.

Once Dakota was dried off, Sylvain led the gelding out to the paddock. Dakota normally went out with Gal, but since she was on stall rest, Dakota was going out with Kash for the rest of the old thoroughbred’s turnout. It also meant he was up front by the driveway, and Felix was due along any minute, and this little arrangement had nothing to do with seeing Felix as soon as he came in sight. Sylvain checked his watch and walked over to Kash. The seal brown gelding trotted to Sylvain, fully expecting his daily cookie.

“Hey, old friend. How are you today?” Kash had been Sylvain’s first big jumper, taking him from the 1.05-meter height through his first mini prix. There were a few years that Kash was leased out to teach other riders how to ride at the bigger heights. Now that Kash was in his early twenties, he was comfortably retired. Sylvain occasionally took him out for some light jumping and tended to ride him out on hacks once or twice a week, just to keep him from getting too bored.

Ashe was just over across the way turning out Boo in the stallion paddock, far away from the mares and with the highest fences. Then he headed back over to the temporary stalls to double check everything in there because he was meticulous with his preparation.

“I should go help him,” Sylvain said. He leaned into Kash’s shoulder and breathed softly across the horse’s neck, watching as his sun-bleached black mane wiggled in his wind. “But I think I’ll hang out with you instead.”

The horse made no indication of response, choosing instead to continue grazing on the early summer grass.

Sylvain took advantage of the horse’s tolerance and stance of perpendicular to the slant of the hill and vaulted himself up on Kash’s back. The horse lifted his head and broke into a trot. Sylvain laughed and laced his fingers in the thin mane for some purchase as he flexed the muscles in his seat and legs. “Oh, so we’re gonna goof around, huh?”

Kash shook his head and maintained his trot, keeping in front of Sylvain’s leg and snorting like he was getting fired up before a round under the lights.

He squeezed the horse into a canter and leaned forward up the hill. Just then he saw Felix’s truck and trailer pulling into the driveway. The gate opened, since Felix had remembered the code that would likely never change (Miklan’s birthday) and he was just a moment away. Sylvain rode Kash to the edge of his paddock, cantering probably a little too fast to be safe.

Felix must’ve seen the redhead cresting the hill Fabio style because he stopped the truck in the way outside Kash’s paddock to prevent Sylvain from trying to jump the fence. “Don’t be stupid. We don’t need you breaking another horse this week,” he said through the open truck window.

Sylvain feigned a pouty lip but only for a moment. “Glad you’re here.”

“Are the stalls ready so we can unload?” Almost as if on cue, the trailer shook with the force of one horse stomping and shaking in its compartment.

“Oh, you’ve got a live one back there. Yeah, Ashe is expecting you guys now.”

Felix drove on toward the temporary stalls, and Sylvain walked Kash back to the front of his paddock. Dakota paced the fence line, curious about the new trailer.

The shaking rig with squealing horse seemed to have caught most of the horses’ attention, as they had all perked their ears up and stared down at the barn.

Once Sylvain rejoined, he saw Annette standing outside as Felix led what was likely a velociraptor off the trailer. He held nearly the end of the lead rope as the horse shook and pawed on the other end.

“You sure that’s a dressage horse?” Sylvain asked with a lilt. He had seen Felix work with some truly wild horses, but this one looked downright mean. It was small, maybe even under 16 hands. Its was a dusty gold, like the color of a baby deer, with a thick dorsal stripe down its spine.

“He will be. Eventually. He just needs some decency first.”

Annette’s eyes bulged out in reaction to Felix’s statement. She backed farther away as Felix led the crow-hopping horse through the barn and to the nearby round pen. “That one is psycho,” Annette told Sylvain. “Also hi!”

“When did Felix get that one?”

“El plácido over there? He bought him drunkenly about three months ago. Sight unseen, from a breeder auction online.”

“He swore he’d never get an Iberian ‘cart horse’ like that. Those were his exact words third year, right?”

“Right after he rode Coach Seteth’s big Andalusian!” Annette laughed a big, loud laugh as she led Sammy off the trailer.

Sylvain’s eyes traced over the shipping halter with his nameplate over the fleece and bolted into the leather below. Nothing but the best for Superlative, the future Olympic medalist. He was thrilled to see Felix’s horses here. He followed suit behind Ashe and grabbed one of the remaining client horses and led it to a stall.

Felix stood watching the fire-breathing Lusitano horse as it trotted around the round pen, its chest puffed up and its nostrils flared.

“So when were you going to share about this one?” Sylvain asked, leaning against the fence, watching alongside Felix.

“Tch.” Felix should his head. “When the buyer’s remorse wears off.”

“How drunk were you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Felix said. He looked pointedly away from Sylvain and the horse.

“What’s his name?”

“Fogo da Paixão.”

“Which means…”

“Fire of Passion.”

Sylvain doubled over as he laughed. The name was a bit dramatic for Felix’s usual taste, and the horse himself was dramatic. Felix must’ve been quite intoxicated.

“Sylvain!” Felix scolded.

The showjumper struggled to stifle his laughter and stood back up. “What in the name of the goddess were you thinking?”

“That once Sammy and I medal and make our records unachievable, I will need a new challenge.”

Though it seemed crazy, Felix had of course made a responsible purchase. A horse like this would only make him a better trainer and rider, and if nothing else, the flashy horse would be a nice return on investment.

“Don’t laugh. That,” Felix gestured in the horse’s direction, “Is completely your fault.”

# # #

Annette, Ashe, Felix, and Sylvain sat on the long sides of the small table in the Gautier estate kitchen. On either end of the table sat Sylvain’s parents. Dinner was tense. No one was quite sure what to say. Adelaide finally broke the silence. “How is Rodrigue doing?”

“Well, thank you,” Felix said. He bit into the fish on his plate, returning the same stern stare to Adelaide.

“The Fraldarius name still holds some honor, considering Glenn’s accomplishments.” Guillaume sipped at his wine. “Unlike certain sons.”

“Stop bringing him up at dinner, Guillaume. We don’t talk about him.”

“Miklan was not the son to whom I am referring.”

“Thank you, Dad. It’s always thrilling to have these discussions in front of company.” Sylvain finished his wine and poured himself another glass (number three).

The table was silent for a few minutes then. Ashe and Annette hardly touched their food. Sylvain worked more on his wine than the fish. Felix stared holes into the table.

“Annette, where are you staying?”

“Oh, Felix and I were going to crash in the living quarters of the trailer.”

Adelaide looked personally insulted. “You’ll do no such thing!”

“I like Annette to be close to the horses,” Felix explained. “We both sleep better knowing someone is close to them.”

“Then she’ll stay in Sylvain’s apartment. You and Sylvain will be in the house, of course.”

“Mom. I really think––”

“Sylvain, we’ll hear no more of it.”

# # #

With the horses checked over for the night, Sylvain helped Felix gather his belongings from the trailer and walked with him to the house. Ashe and Annette bid their farewells and headed up to the barn apartment.

“So your parents are handling this like everything else,” Felix asked without really asking.

Sylvain sighed and tilted his head back as he considered the stars overhead. “With excessive booze and passive aggression? Well of course. They wouldn’t be the Gautiers if there was no wine in their hands.”

“Well, I can’t stay in your room.”

“Why not?”

Felix stopped in his tracks and stared at Sylvain. “They’re obviously challenging you––challenging us.”

Sylvain liked the way that _us_ sounded in Felix’s mouth. “So what? We’ve just faced off against Olympic selection judges. My mom and dad are nothing.”

“I’m not dealing with any drama.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sylvain awaited an explanation.

“I just mean that the last thing either of us need is for you to get kicked out.”

“Well then it’s the couch or outside. No one’s stayed in Miklan’s room since he got disowned.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s just a room.” They started walking up the hill to the house again.

Sylvain shrugged. “That’s just how my mom is. She’s all but labeled it as a shrine to the Miklan that was.”

“This is not a vacation, Sylvain. I’m here to rehabilitate your horse so that we can maintain a promise we made as children. That’s it.”

Inside, they walked past the master suite before climbing the stairs. Sylvain’s room was just at the top of the staircase, where Miklan’s was over the master bedroom.

“At least come sit with me so we can talk and not disturb the happy couple downstairs.”

“Fine,” Felix said, maybe a bit too quickly.

Sylvain smirked. He opened the door and took Felix’s bag, placing it gingerly on the dresser. Pulling out his almost empty flask, Sylvain offered it to Felix.

“How much of that have you been drinking?”

“Not that much,” Sylvain said.

Felix stared at the flask as though it was radioactive. “That’s not what my report says.”

Sylvain sighed. Ashe must’ve said something to Felix. “I promise I’m staying hydrated.” He sat next to Felix on the bed and laid back, letting his hands come together behind his head. “I get that everyone is worried about me, but I’m fine.”

Felix laid back next to Sylvain, staring at the ceiling. “Are you fine?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know. Would you?” Felix’s words were sharp like a sword.

“I’ve never lied to you before.” He reached over for Felix’s body and pulled him close. “Lying to you would incur quite the penalty. I like this existence stuff.”

“Do you?”

“What’s with you?” Sylvain sat up and looked down at Felix, studying his face and his eyes for some indication of the dressage rider’s state of mind. “Are you okay?”

“Like I told you last night, I’m okay. But I show up here and you’re already tipsy at 11:30 in the morning with a bruise on your cheek and bags under your eyes. You were galloping your retired jumper bareback and helmetless like you were doing cross country jumps. You drank an entire bottle of wine by yourself at dinner.”

“Babe,” Sylvain said. He dropped back down to the bed and turned Felix so their faces were just inches apart. “I’m always better when you’re around. It’s just been a rough couple of days.”

Felix’s amber eyes stared without breaking at the bruised face of his lover, his best friend. “We’ve faced worse than this.”

Sylvain laughed. “There’s no one else I would face any of this with.” He reached forward and found Felix’s lips against his own. It was a soft kiss, the kind where they could just be having breakfast or discussing different brands of tail detangler and just feel the need to be close for a moment. It was tame.

Felix was the one who invited the heat. (At least, that’s how Sylvain would swear it went down.) His hands met on Sylvain’s shoulder blades and pulled their chests together. Then Felix’s hands went off on separate missions: his right found Sylvain’s hair and his left started reaching into the back pocket of Sylvain’s breeches.

Smiling against Felix’s lips, Sylvain breathed in the moment and breathed out everything else happening in his life. He matched Felix’s intensity, as years of practice had taught him that too much too quickly would send Felix the opposite direction.

Then Felix made his intentions clearer. His hand moved from Sylvain’s back pocket to the front of Sylvain’s breeches. His long and nimble fingers that could make any musician envious squeezed the rapidly growing erection in his pants. He kept on squeezing as Sylvain rolled on top of Felix and deepened the kiss. Both of Felix’s hands had found their way below Sylvain’s waist.

Quickly getting out of breath, the redhead broke the kiss momentarily. Sylvain jumped off the bed and locked the door to his room. He turned on the television to a random late night talk show and turned back to Felix.

The dressage rider lay exactly where Sylvain had left him, hair trying to pull free of his bun, shirt half unbuttoned. There was a noticeable tent in his breeches. His chest heaved as Sylvain’s eyes wandered over him. Felix gave him a look that demanded to know what was the holdup.

“Fe,” Sylvain said in a sigh. His stomach turned with hunger as his blood rushed south. Having Felix waiting so openly, even beseechingly, in his childhood bed was definitely not how Sylvain expected this day to go, but he wasn’t complaining. He pounced on Felix, pinning him to the bed. Sylvain laced his fingers with Felix’s and pressed his hips into the other’s. An unexpected moan escaped his throat as Felix’s lips found his neck. The moan crescendoed as Felix moved down Sylvain’s neck and opened his shirt to reveal his chest.

“Shut up,” Felix said. “Do you want your parents to hear us?” Completely counterintuitive to his warning, he turned from kissing to biting. The flesh on Sylvain’s chest stood no chance against the most competitive in everything he ever does, Felix Hugo Fraldarius. “Imagine them walking in on us after that awkward dinner.”

“The door’s locked,” Sylvain moaned. He took his right hand to Felix’s head and started playing with his hair. His left hand pulled the shirt off Felix’s back.

“Like that’s ever stopped your dad before.” Felix, immediately chasing away the traumatic childhood memories of Guillaume crashing through doors to berate his children for things that were not their faults, wrapped his legs around Sylvain’s waist and held him close.

Sylvain was able to stay focused once Felix was kissing his neck again. He let instinct take over and gave into his animal side. When Felix kissed his neck, he really wasn’t quiet in his reactions. Sylvain moaned and slid his hand under Felix’s back, letting his nails graze the skin. He felt his cock harden when Felix moaned into the skin of his neck and the kiss changed to Felix biting him before Sylvain lifted Felix’s back off the bed and pressed him close. With his free hand, he worked his fingers to the roots of Felix’s hair and pulled.

Felix responded by sucking the same spot on his neck, just enough to get his point across but not quite enough to leave a big mark. He had always loved when Sylvain pulled his hair, though he’d go to his grave swearing it was one of the things he hated most in the world. He unlatched his hands from behind Sylvain’s back and let himself fall to the bed before pulling Sylvain down to his level with pure leg strength.

“I love when you get demanding like this,” Sylvain said. He dropped to Felix’s body and kissed from his collarbone over his chest and abs (throwing in a few licks because Felix had quite the body to brag about) down to the waistband of his breeches. He cast his eyes up to Felix’s face.

Felix’s eyes were watching him intently, his hands woven desperately into his hair. He breathed hard, and the longer that Sylvain stared at him with that dumb smirk, the redder his cheeks turned. “Hurry up,” he half ordered, half begged.

Sylvain couldn’t remember when he had learned this party trick––perhaps he repressed it like so many other memories––but its success rate surpassed that of nearly every other trick Sylvain had. He held himself up over Felix’s body, doing push-ups. Each time he lowered his body, he undid Felix’s belt a little more with only his teeth. It meant he spent a lot more time down than pushing up, but he definitely liked that positioning. Each successive rep gave him the opportunity to brush his face across the front of Felix’s breeches and feel the building warmth and tightness in the olive colored fabric. When Sylvain finally unlatched the belt after five reps, he pulled the belt free by the buckle and held it in his teeth like a trophy kill and he was the prized hunting dog.

“That will never not be impressive,” Felix admitted. He took one hand from Sylvain’s hair to unlatch the closure at his waist before Sylvain’s teeth pulled the zipper down. Those long fingers cupped Sylvain’s cheek, thumb tenderly rubbing across the bruise, before pushing his head down. His back involuntarily arched as Sylvain licked up the front of his boxers.

Resting up on his elbows, Sylvain unceremoniously finished removing Felix’s pants and tossed them to the side of the bed along with the belt and both their shirts. Felix’s cock was beautiful, and Sylvain was always impressed by the sight of it.

“Quit staring,” Felix begged.

Sylvain was nothing if not a giver. He ran his hand up the six and a half inches, helping it stand as it got harder, and then popped the head in his mouth. Sylvain felt his own erection strain against his breeches as Felix groaned, and he lowered his head, taking the full length in his mouth and throat right away. He smiled as Felix’s hands grabbed desperately at the back of his head, encouraging more, deeper, longer. And Sylvain complied. He’d do anything Felix asked of him.

Felix tried his best to stay still and let Sylvain do what he had always done exceptionally well. His thighs tensed as he pointed his toes and he tried to relax and let it happen. But his hips took on a mind of their own as he started fucking Sylvain’s mouth, and Sylvain rewarded him with another loud moan that vibrated deep in his throat, sending sensations through his cock that he could only call astounding.

The look on his face told Sylvain that Felix was already close, so he was surprised when he pushed the redhead away. Then Sylvain shuddered through his whole body as Felix whispered in his ear, “Take off those cheap Tailored Sportsmans and fuck me.”

Sylvain jumped to his feet and wiggled free of the skin-tight breeches. He reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Who am I to deny my dressage king his request?” He winked as he tucked the bottle in the waistband of his boxers to warm up the liquid.

“Ugh, you know how much I hate it when you call me that,” Felix said. He crawled across the bed, letting his own animalistic side emerge as he pushed Sylvain down to the bed and straddled him.

“You’re sending some mixed signals there, babe,” Sylvain said. He ground his hips into Felix’s, suddenly frustrated by the barrier around his dick. His hands cupped Felix’s sculpted ass, chiseled and carved and muscled out by years of riding multiple horses a day in one of the most difficult equestrian sports.

“I like it better when you don’t talk,” Felix said, and he folded over at the waist so that his chest was pressed to Sylvain’s before pulling him into a kiss. He led the way with his tongue, moving with the same precision as though this were a judged test.

Sylvain let the fingers of his right hand wander closer and closer to Felix’s hole, teasing the opening with his fingertip. When Felix pushed back against the pressure, Sylvain pressed in a bit. He let his tongue dance with Sylvain’s, tangoing in the space created between their mouths.

Despite Sylvain’s middle finger being dry, Felix fucked himself easily. Everything that he did, he did to the utmost success. When Sylvain added his ring finger, Felix groaned with satisfaction. He broke off the kiss and let his head roll back so he could moan louder.

The sight was a lot for Sylvain. His cock jumped once with anticipation. “You ready?” he asked.

“Gods, yes,” Felix said. He rolled off Sylvain and turned over so he was face down, ass up.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re looking for,” Sylvain teased. When he saw Felix look back at him, Sylvain pulled the warm lube out of his waistband and held it in his hand. Then he took off his boxers off slowly, swaying his hips a bit.

“Get _on_ with it.”

Sylvain laughed before stepping out of the patterned underwear. He squirted some of the liquid into his hand, rubbing it up and down his painfully hard nine inches. He walked to Felix’s hips at the end of the bed and waited for Felix to look forward. Then he bent down and spread Felix’s cheeks before diving in face first, licking at the hole like he was competing against Felix. The volume with which he moaned into Sylvain’s pillow made the entire activity that much more enjoyable. He reached around Felix’s slender hips and found him hard and ready to burst.

“Sylvain, just fuck me, please,” he moaned into the pillow.

“All you had to do was ask, babe.” Sylvain kissed the base of Felix’s spine before standing tall. He pushed Felix’s knees a bit farther apart and lined up his cock with Felix before pushing in slowly. It was always amazing how tight Felix was, no matter how often Sylvain fucked him. Call it an occupational hazard. The pressure was divine as he pushed in deeper, managing to get most of his length in. Sylvain went slowly because he was afraid of hurting Felix.

But right on schedule, Felix rocked backwards, meeting Sylvain’s motion. “I want it all,” he said.

“You sure?” Sylvain was still jerking Felix’s cock in rhythm with his own hips.

“Yes.” And as Sylvain impaled Felix, the smaller hollowed his back and groaned out, “Oh gods, Sylvain!”

And then Sylvain couldn’t resist. He started fucking Felix with gusto. He bent over Felix’s back, placing tender kisses on his shoulders. He used his free hand to pull all of Felix’s hair to the side and swept it over his shoulder. “Fuck, Fe,” he breathed out, slowing his rhythm a bit as he felt himself quickly approaching his edge.

“Don’t slow down,” Felix begged.

“I don’t want to finish this early,” Sylvain said.

“Then I’ll get on top.”

And with some quick rearranging, Sylvain found himself lying on the bed with Felix straddling him once more. He relished the kiss they shared, lingering even after Felix pulled away. Sylvain helped Felix find the right position.

Once Felix made contact with Sylvain’s cock, he dropped his hips down and took the entire length in one go. He rode, using muscles the average person did not have nearly the same power or endurance. His hair bounced with his body’s motion, his cock slapping against his own body. His body got tighter and tighter around Sylvain.

With his big hands covering all of Felix’s hips, Sylvain was more along for the ride than influencing the rhythm of Felix’s posting. He watched Felix with half lidded eyes, feeling his orgasm approach quickly. He hated finishing so quickly, but the excitement over the last couple of days left him in dire need of some stress relief. “Babe, I’m almost there.”

“Help me meet you there.”

Sylvain reached for Felix’s cock and rubbed the length, tightening his grip as he got closer to the head. The heat coming off Felix’s body was incredible. Felix was usually cool to the touch, but whenever they were together like this, one cock-deep in the other, Felix warmed up like he was in the sauna. And that image did not help Sylvain try to hold out just a bit longer.

Felix leaned forward just a bit and adjusted the angle of his motion, and that seemed to do the trick. “Oh fuck. Sylvain!” And he was spurting everything built up across Sylvain’s stomach and chest. A little had managed to land on his lips, which Sylvain happily licked up.

The sight of Felix mid-climax was what brought Sylvain over the edge. The way Felix’s eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open and he was so vulnerable in those moments, the way he never was with anyone. He bucked his hips up into Felix, finishing inside him. And when Felix rose up until Sylvain slid loose, he bent down and licked up his own mess from the redhead’s body. Sylvain felt some activity stir in his loins.

“Absolutely not,” Felix said when he must’ve felt Sylvain’s dick try to ask for another round. He slid over to the other side of the bed and under the covers.

Sylvain rolled onto his side so he faced Felix. He watched as Felix’s eyelids drooped closed and forced themselves open. “If you’re tired, you don’t have to stay awake on my account.” Sylvain closed the space between them and pressed a kiss to Felix’s forehead.

Felix grumbled in response, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He made no movement away from Sylvain though.

“I love you.”

“Knock it off. We have an early morning.”

“We’re horse trainers. We always have an early morning.”

“Earlier than usual.”

“How early?”

“Early enough that you should stop talking and maximize your sleep.” Felix turned away but pressed back into Sylvain’s warm body. Even in the middle of the Blue Sea Moon, it was cold in the Gautier household.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Sylvain said. He wrapped his arms around Felix’s chest and sighed contentedly.

“Mm. Yeah. Love you.”

Sylvain fell asleep with a grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say I spent forever writing *that* scene, I mean I spent like the entirety of my Sunday writing it. So I hope y'all enjoyed it. Thank you all for the kind words and kudos! They've been super encouraging. Next chapter is nearly done, just needs a little polishing, so that update should be up soon.


	4. No Stirrups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix Boot Camp begins (and Sylvain is very unprepared for these changes).

“Sylvain! Wake up!” The blankets were snatched from his naked body.

The chills outmatched the sore muscles, and Sylvain contracted his entire torso and all his limbs to conserve the warmth. He opened his eyes to see Felix already dressed and throwing some clothes at Sylvain’s face.

“We’re already behind. Hurry up.”

Sylvain looked at the clock on his nightstand. “It’s not even five, Felix. My herd eats at seven!”

“You wanted my help. This is how it goes.” He waited, a taught fist pressed to his hip, with an annoyed expression on his face. When Sylvain looked him up and down, he blushed and looked away.

Sylvain couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. Those running tights were doing a lot––quite a lot indeed––for Felix’s legs and Sylvain’s morning wood. He slid into the shorts and tank top that Felix had thrown at him just a few moments before.

They quietly descended and went out the front door. Walking toward the barn, Sylvain could see the lights on in his bedroom, where Annette was staying, but Ashe’s lights were still out. “You and Annette are up at this hour every day?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

“For one thing, I don’t waste energy by filling every empty second with idle conversation.”

“Oh stop, you love it.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret leaving my headphones inside.”

“So what’s first on the Felix morning routine?” Sure, they had stayed together before, but those had been the rare occasion where they had shows near each other or actually took a vacation. Staying together under normal circumstances was unexplored territory. Sylvain hoped the rest of it happened at far more sane hours. He liked his sleep.

Then Felix got that dangerous look in his eyes, one that he got before something he knew Sylvain would hate was about to happen. His eyes narrowed and he smirked like the Grinch as he said, “We’re running.”

“Okay, how far?” Sylvain already felt tired.

“I try to do five miles, but some days I have to cut it short for time so I go for a faster time.”

Sylvain laughed loudly enough to scare off one of the cats nearby. “Yeah, I can do about a mile.”

Felix shook his head. “Then the next forty minutes are going to be miserable. Let’s go.”

“What, no stretching?”

“You shouldn’t stretch cold muscles. We’ll jog the first quarter-mile to warm up and then pick up the pace.” Felix tapped on his smart watch screen and started jogging down the driveway.

Sylvain groaned and set off behind Felix, taking the slow jog to at least enjoy the view. But Felix’s jogging pace was significantly faster than Sylvain’s, and he found himself tiring very quickly. Granted, the vigorous exercise from the night before probably didn’t help his energy level. Sylvain definitely wouldn’t complain about that though.

“Stop ogling my ass and run!”

“If I pass out, you’re carrying me home, right?”

Felix quickened his pace just a bit more.

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Sylvain was grateful for his long legs. He lacked Felix’s endurance, but he could at least match his speed for a little while. He hardly paid attention to the surrounding farms these days, so five miles would definitely take them around the block (so to speak when the block was full of multiple multi-acre farms).

“This will be the first sunrise you’ve seen in recent months, I’m guessing.”

Sylvain thought carefully for a moment. “Definitely the first one at home for a while. I saw one last winter with you, though.”

“Last winter?”

“Yeah, when the four of us shared that house for winter circuit in the Empire. We were celebrating your Friday Night Freestyle win, and we got home and stayed up all night out on the deck looking at the stars and drinking champagne.”

“I assumed you were too drunk to remember that.”

“If anything, it was the minor concussion from you riding me on that rickety old chaise that makes the memory hazy.”

“Oh gods, now _that_ I had forgotten about.” Felix slowed his pace a bit. “Minor concussion? That’s stretching it.”

Sylvain matched Felix’s new pace. “I mean, I ended up going off course in my first class that morning. I never go off course, the same way you never forget a test.”

“That could have been fatigue. We were up all night.”

“I’m used to the lack of sleep, especially from such activities.”

“Disgusting.” Felix shook his head.

Sylvain was hypnotized by the way his hair moved when Felix shook his head, with each strand seeming to follow in line like a wave. Felix’s hair would make anyone in the world jealous, and he just kept it tied back all the time. “That’s not the only reason I’m up all night, though.”

“I thought the nightmares stopped years ago,” Felix said. His tone changed from gently critical to one of hushed concern. It was almost hard to hear over the crunch of gravel and stiff grass blades under running sneakers.

“They did.” Sylvain felt his quads and calves burning as the incline grew steeper. “Can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep enough to dream.”

“That’s probably the worst coping strategy anyone has ever come up with,” he said.

Sylvain could find no argument, so he stayed quiet and looked desperately to the top of the hill, just yards away.

Felix smacked him on the back of the head. It wasn’t a hard smack––at least, not as hard as Felix was capable of inflicting. But his point got across. “You’re out riding crazy horses over jumps taller than me on, what, three hours of sleep a night? Multiple horses a day.”

If Sylvain didn’t want to eat gravel for breakfast, he would’ve made a joke about Felix’s height. “I mean, that’s what helmets are for, right?”

“So what happens when you get stepped on? What’s protecting your chest, your spine, your vital organs?”

“Vital organs, or just one vital or––”

“I’m serious, Sylvain.” Felix stopped as they reached the crest of the hill and stared into Sylvain’s eyes. Felix wasn’t one for extended eye contact, so for him to stare Sylvain down so intently spoke volumes. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

Felix’s words certainly did not fall on unlistening ears, but it was the brain that needed some better management. Sylvain stood tall to help his body have more room to catch his breath. “Do you really do five miles every day?”

“Sylvain!”

“Fe?”

“No, don’t try to play cute with me.” He poked Sylvain in the chest in the way an angry nun would chastise a sinner. “If you want my help, and if you really want me to stick around, then you have to be healthier. That means drinking less, sleeping more, eating right, and getting help for the shit from your life you haven’t dealt with.”

“Babe, come on, it’s like just after five. Can we have this conversation when I’ve woken up a bit more?”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.” Felix turned away and shouted, “I’ll see you at the barn. Go cool out before you eat something.” He was already running significantly faster than Sylvain could maintain.

Rather than stoke Felix’s fire, Sylvain did as he was told. He started walking back down the hill and toward his home. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see the time, 5:08, and some messages from Ashe and Annette. There were some other notifications that he didn’t feel too concerned with––an email from yet another reporter, some social media stuff, an automated message from his daily horoscope app––clouding up his screen. Sylvain answered Annette’s question about which paddocks she could use for turnout and laughed at Ashe’s excited text _Annette made breakfast!_

Before too long, his mile and a half walk back to the farm was over. Kash trotted up to the fence. “Hey big man, were you out all night?” Sylvain asked the horse. He climbed the fence into the paddock and patted the horse on the shoulder. The blood bay wrapped his neck around Sylvain’s back so that his head could reach some grass behind Sylvain. “I’ll take that as a hug. Thanks, buddy.” He leaned into the horse, laying an arm lazily on his back. “Want to play taxi again? I’ll take you into the barn and serve up some breakfast nice and early. Fair trade, right?” Kash offered no objections, being a horse, so Sylvain grabbed some mane in hand and swung aboard the 17-hand beast. Like the day before, Kash immediately launched into a big, bouncy trot. For a horse with such a storied career, he really had a lot of go left.

As he approached the barn, Sylvain leaned over and opened the gate. Kash walked through, as though this was a daily occurrence. When Sylvain had been younger, it had been. He used to adventure with Kash all the time. But as he got older and riding got more serious, there was less time for trail rides and silly horseback antics.

“Is that Kash?” Annette asked. She and Ashe were heading toward the tent stalls, presumably to feed Felix’s herd. “Jeez, he’s got to be at least 20 now!”

“23 in the next Guardian Moon. He still acts like he’s fresh off the track and ready to go!” Sylvain slid off the horse’s back and walked into the barn aisle to open his stall. Kash walked in and picked at the little bit of hay left in his hay net. Sylvain returned to Ashe and Annette.

“He was at school our first year, right?” Annette asked.

“Yes!” Ashe said. “That was the last year Sylvain competed with him. Gal was imported that year and she started competing with Sylvain the next season.”

“How do you remember all that?” Sylvain asked.

Ashe just shrugged. He unlocked the feed room door in the temporary stalls and helped Annette prepare the grain.

Sylvain looked around for how he could be helpful. But Ashe and Annette were already a well-oiled machine after a day. He tried pulling a bale of hay down to help that way, but Annette stopped him.

“There’s still plenty of breakfast up in the loft if you want to help yourself!”

“Will Corporal Fraldarius approve of my eating off schedule?” Sylvain tried to laugh.

“Oh, you won’t overeat on this. Besides, once you finish with that, you can help me lay out the dressage arena. That should work off any extra calories.”

Sylvain looked to Ashe for support, or perhaps just for someone to agree that Felix and Annette’s operation was just too much, but Ashe was focused on the weight of the grain he was pouring into buckets. (Annette had even brought a kitchen scale for measuring portions for the horses.) So he mumbled a quick “thanks” and walked back to the loft.

It wasn’t too much longer before Felix returned from his run and headed up to the loft to join Sylvain. He had run his head under one of the hoses outside to cool off by the look of his hair and the way it dripped on the tile floor. Other than that, though, it would’ve been impossible to tell that Felix ran five miles. He looked well rested, even energized!

“Do you seriously eat this every day?” Sylvain asked. He was flipping the egg whites and spinach over on his fork, hoping by some madness that the laws of physical science would be suspended and his plate would be filled with something significantly more appetizing.

“Not every day. Sometimes I get up before Annette and I cook. Sometimes my father beats us both to it.” He prepared his own plate before sitting across from Sylvain and stared into a glass of water.

Sylvain made a point of taking a bite and did his best to hide the gag. Eggs were never his favorite food, and egg whites were somehow just so much worse than eggs with yolks.

Felix chuckled quietly before digging into his own plate. “Your horses eat well, right?”

“Nothing but the best,” Sylvain agreed.

“You’re as much an athlete as they are. You should eat like it.”

“But if I burn off the calories, does it really matter?”

“It’s not about fat and skinny. It’s about getting the right nutrition to support the right muscles and brain functions.” Felix had finished most of the eggs already and helped himself to a piece of multigrain toast, no butter. “Did you really miss all of Professor Manuela’s nutrition classes?”

“Well that was the semester when Dorothea had decided to wear low-rise breeches everywhere, so I was a bit distracted.”

Felix shook his head. “In a matter of an hour, you have made me regret so many life choices.” Even so, he reached a hand across the table and held Sylvain’s.

Sylvain smiled a big toothy grin, teeth full of spinach.

“If you’re trying to repel me, it’s working.” He squeezed Sylvain’s hand before standing up and clearing the table. “I’ll clean this up. Can you help Annette set up the dressage ring?”

“Of course.”

Felix smirked in the way that meant Sylvain would regret wholeheartedly what he had agreed to, but Sylvain only saw it for an instant before heading outside.

Ashe was in the aisle feeding Sylvain’s horses and his client horses. He was about halfway through and moving like lightning. “It’s amazing,” he said to Sylvain. “That breakfast made me feel so energized! And it was delicious!”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No! In fact, we should keep this up even after Felix and Annette head home.”

“Ashe. You can’t do this to me. I need something to be normal still.” Sylvain smiled, but his eyes betrayed the anxiety swelling like a playground ball in his chest.

Finishing the grain at the last stall, Ashe laughed. “You could stand to eat a little healthier. If you expect the horses to eat well balanced meals, why are you exempt? Shouldn’t you be helping Annette set up the dressage ring?”

Sylvain was already drawing a few tallies in the L column today, and it was barely six in the morning. He marched out to the field next to the tent stalls, where Annette was walking a measuring tape to what Sylvain assumed was the standard 60 meters long. As he got closer, he could hear Annette singing to herself.

“All King Victor’s exceptional show horses can manage big plastic fences. Doing lots extra is good.”

“Uh, I’ve heard your original songs before and they’re usually better than that.” Sylvain picked up one of the flower pots waiting by the edge of the ring space. He was surprised by how heavy it was, but then he remembered Felix’s smirk and Annette’s threat and tried to hide the shock on his face.

“It’s how I remember where the letters go. I’ve worked for Felix for three years, but there’s really no rhyme or reason why dressage letters are where they are.” She looked at the pot in Sylvain’s hands. “That’s F. It should go at the top and left, just there. Perfect.”

Once it was in place, Sylvain looked. “How can you tell this is one letter over another? It’s not labeled!”

“You know how Felix is. He’s super picky and the letters have to be in the right places. Plus, the flowers are all different.” Annette wasted no time and picked up another pot. Despite her size, she barely struggled in placing this one 10 meters to the right and slightly behind the one Sylvain had placed. “That’s A.”

“So, which letter is next?”

“K. It’s the pot with the bright red flowers. Those are Kaffir lilies.” She stood where the square flower pot should sit.

Sylvain did as he was told for V, E, S, H, C, M, and B. He couldn’t help but notice the bright orange snapdragons in the flower box at S.

“He’ll deny it if you ask him, but when you bought Snapdragon, Felix totally got rid of the sunflower in that box.” Annette hooked a single link of a white plastic chain on each flower box, starting at K and walking clockwise to F.

“Why are all these boxes so heavy?”

“They used to be lighter. But then Felix brought the crazy horse home. He knocked half of them over in the first week. Rodrigue got tired of replacing the flowers and said he’d get the fake ones. So Felix put cinderblocks in the bottom!”

“These are all real flowers?” Sylvain leaned over and took a whiff of the begonias, which had a light, soft scent.

Annette smiled proudly. “Every single one. He got some advice from Dedue on keeping them alive.” Then Annette did her best Felix impersonation, scowling and putting a hand on her hip: “He says that ‘a green thumb is just one more thing he has that other riders never will, just like the top scores and the top horses.’ But Felix is right. Everyone else does fake flowers because they’re easier. But the live ones are good because they look really nice and sometimes there’ll be bees and butterflies and hummingbirds hanging out around the ring, which is good for desensitizing the horses. And it helps me remember which letter is which. He just thinks of all the little details like that. Felix doesn’t take the easy way on anything, but it pays off when he keeps winning because he really is just that good.”

# # #

Once Sylvain and Felix had gotten ready to ride, Sylvain assumed the day was his. And they each got through three client horses. Ashe had ridden two of Sylvain’s client horses. So when Sylvain had Buck and Snap ready to go, he thought for sure he would get to have some real fun for the first time today. But Felix marched down the aisle, helmet in hand.

“Babe?” Sylvain was sliding the bit into Snapdragon’s mouth. In the other set of crossties, Ashe was getting the girth tightened on Buck’s saddle. “I thought you were going to ride Sammy?”

“He’s got a light day today. Annette is going to take him for a hack later. You need my attention a little more right now.”

Ashe raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sylvain.

“Uh. I’m not sure I follow.” He didn’t stop preparing for his ride, though, as he tightened the noseband on Snap’s bridle.

“You say Snap isn’t ready. Well, we’re going to see how unprepared she really is.” Felix lacked even the slightest note of humor in his voice. With how hands-on Felix was in training, that threat could mean any number of surprises while he rode around. “Let’s head to the indoor arena.”

Ashe tried to stifle his laughter.

“You too, Ashe.”

Sylvain stuck his tongue out at the groom.

“Knock that off. You’re at work, not the playground.” Felix pulled two riding crops off a shelf in the tack room and started marching. “Let’s go. Annette is already setting up.”

Outside the barn, Sylvain gave Ashe a leg up so he could ride Buck over to the indoor arena. Sylvain swung aboard Snap. “Are you gonna walk?” he asked Felix.

“Nope. This is work for all three of these youngsters.”

“Three?” Ashe asked.

Then they saw the wild beast, that Lusitano, standing tied to the (mostly decorative) hitching post out front. Felix put his helmet on and adjusted it for his bun. He dropped the stirrups on his saddle and took the halter off. The horse had already been bridled underneath the halter, so Felix only needed to put the reins over his head and mount up.

“You can’t be serious,” Sylvain said. “You know how small the indoor is! Three horses, two of which are jumping around, all three of which are still young and silly.”

“Exactly.” Felix had a stern look on his face as he let the Lusitano shake his head and dance around. “So pay attention.” Applying some pressure from his calves, Felix arched an eyebrow at the horse as he tried to maintain the horse’s attention.

“Should you be carrying two crops on that horse?”

“I’m just transporting them for now.” Felix quickly had the horse moving forward at a steady walk with nice impulsion from the hind end, strutting forward so that his back hooves occupied the space that his front hooves had just a moment before––tracking up. “Ferris could use the exposure.”

“Ferris? Really? Because Fogo de Paixão wasn’t already a ridiculous enough name?” Sylvain pushed Snapdragon into the same impulsive walk to match pace with the small but powerful little devil beside her.

“Ferris was the nicest name I could come up with after my father nicknamed him ‘Feral.’ It just stuck.”

Ashe shook his head. “I can certainly understand that nickname.” He made sure to keep Buck a fair distance away. There was no need to give them a chance to get testy (or testosterone-y) around each other, especially with a mare in the arena. “Felix, I know what you’re capable of as a rider and trainer, but are you sure this is going to be useful?”

“Buckingham is a show-off in need of a serious attitude adjustment and needs to learn to play nice with others. Ferris is learning how to be civilized, both alone and in a crowd, and to _listen to me_.” Felix gave the horse a quick but subtle kick with his heels and let his hands forward so that he couldn’t rear like he so desperately wanted to. “And Snap needs to get used to the noises and crowds and chaos of bigger shows.”

“Wow!” Ashe looked relieved. “You really do plan for everything.”

Sylvain wasn’t sure if it was the hunger from a small breakfast and being on his fourth ride of the day, but he felt quite sick suddenly.

Felix rode Ferris up to the arena and opened the gate, though Ferris did not seem thrilled about being near the gate as it opened. He pinned his ears and crow hopped a couple times. Felix circled him twice and tried again, this time with success despite Ferris making angry faces and pinning his ears. He bobbed his nose and shook his head as he entered the arena. “Annette, could you loosen the flash a hole for him?”

Annette, crossing from her seat on the arena fence, approached cautiously and loosened the thin, frontmost band on Ferris’s bridle. He wasn’t quite ready for the double bridle like Sammy was wearing, but Felix had obviously done quite a lot of work with Ferris in a short amount of time. Annette also took the crops from Felix’s hand and then took her seat once more. “Wish I had some popcorn for the show,” she teased Sylvain.

Ashe started his warmup with Buck like normal, trotting around and letting the massive horse stretch his neck and back out as he needed. He normally liked to ride away from the edge of the arena, but since Annette had some grids set up, the rail was his only option.

Sylvain was sure he felt sick now. Snap felt tense through the reins, and when he asked the mare to trot, she obeyed but started grinding her teeth. He let some slack into his contact with her mouth, and that seemed to alleviate the grinding. But Sylvain did not like what he saw around the arena. He thought about the last time he had tried a gymnastics exercise with Buckingham and how the horse tried to duck out halfway through. Buck had broken a pole and gotten a chunk of wood lodged in his leg. It took nearly three months for that injury to close up, never mind the battle with the proudflesh trying to form underneath the stitches. Ashe and Sylvain both had to massage away the scar tissue even now, a year later. He thought about the last time Snap had jumped around in such a small arena, at the Nations Cup last Wyvern Moon. She got so anxious in the corners that she grabbed the bit from Sylvain and ran around with her head up like a giraffe so she could avoid the commands in his hands. She had been nervous that whole week and pulled rails down like she never had before. And now he was reliving those mortifying memories in company. Wonderful.

“Sylvain!” Felix said, bringing his attention back to reality. “Pay attention. You’re not on a carousel horse. Start doing some lateral work with Snap.”

When Sylvain breathed out, Snap relaxed at the poll and through her neck a bit. He put some tension back in the reins and started moving the horse on and off the rail with his legs.

“You need to _keep breathing_. Once every five minutes isn’t enough.” He and Ferris were walking along behind Snapdragon, so he could see every flaw in Sylvain’s posture, commands, and positioning. “You’re too tense. That’s why she’s grinding her teeth.”

Sylvain blinked a few times, raised and lowered his shoulders, and tilted his head side to side, but he couldn’t eliminate the tension in his back and his gut.

“Talk to her.”

“I’m not a child, Felix.”

“Then why are you riding like one?”

Sylvain let out an exasperated huff. “Snapple tea, what do you think about all this commotion in here?” he asked the mare. “You’re alright. We’ve gotten through worse than sharing the tiniest arena in all of Fodlan with two stallions.”

“Better,” Felix said. “Just focus on breathing for now.”

“You hear that, Snap? Felix thinks I don’t know how to maintain basic human functionality.”

“Because you don’t. Ashe, go ahead and pick up a canter. Get him loose and then work on some serpentines across the ring with some lead changes.”

Ashe did as he was told. He didn’t ride Buck too often, since Sylvain was aggressively protective of his main three horses. When Ashe did ride Buck, Sylvain got to see the flashy stud parade around like he was king of the world. Buck knew he was pretty and he knew he was talented. Ashe was a much better rider than he gave himself credit for: soft in the hands and seat, firm in his directions, and comfortable through a variety of equine shenanigans. Buck made Ashe look like a child in the tack, as the horse was nearly 18 hands and muscled out like a body builder, but he never threw tantrums with Ashe like he did with Sylvain. The horse did as he was told, stretching his body out and cantering a lap of the arena in each direction before starting a snake-like path through the arena. He swapped from right lead to left and back and back again right when Ashe asked.

“Sylvain, I did not tell you to stop talking to Snapdragon.”

The show jumper rolled his eyes so hard, he wondered if they might get stuck back in his skull. “You see that, Snaps? One day, your lead changes are going to look like that, smooth as butter. For now, we just need to work on your anxiety.”

“It’s not her anxiety,” Felix said.

“Did you miss the part where she grinds her teeth when I pick up contact?”

“Is she grinding her teeth now?” Felix didn’t even have to turn in Sylvain’s direction. He was watching Ashe serpentine his way back up the arena. “Alright Ashe, that’s enough for now. Go ahead and walk.” He picked up a trot with Ferris, the wild beast, who looked positively different once he was working inside the arena. He was trotting like a gentleman, like Sammy (though their ways of movement were completely different). He reached for contact from Felix and carried himself impeccably. How could this possibly be the same fire breathing dragon that had come off the trailer only a day before? “I don’t hear you talking,” Felix chastised.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her!” Sylvain shouted. Snap did not like the change in his tone. She dropped her head down and her left shoulder in preparation to bolt. “Hey, hey, easy little girl. You’re okay,” Sylvain said, much more quietly. He rubbed a hand on her neck and let her sort herself out.

“Tell her a story; sing the alphabet; recite an epic poem; I don’t really care what you tell her. Just talk to her.” Felix shortened Ferris’s step from a collected trot to a passage, where the legs took shortened steps so it looked like he was in a two-beat march.

“You see that?” Sylvain asked Snapdragon. “Felix is showing off. He knows he’s probably the best rider to ever come through the Kingdom, and he’s just hanging that over our heads.”

Ashe was halted near Annette, and both of them shot Sylvain looks of terror.

“Annette, could you come hold Ferris for a bit?” Felix asked. He halted near the arena gate and dismounted before handing the reins to Annette. Then he turned and walked towards Sylvain. “Get off.”

“Felix, come on, I was just kidding.”

“Did I stutter? Dismount. _Now_.”

Sylvain did as he was told.

Felix quickly adjusted the stirrups, shortening them to nearly the top hole, before swinging aboard Snap. Sylvain distinctly remembered the last time Sylvain had ridden in a close contact saddle, on a dare to compete Kash in the campus spring horse show their first year at university and Felix had complained the whole time about how uncomfortable jumping had become since he was so focused in dressage. But he looked quite natural in the tack with Snapdragon. And he made the mare look good at a trot, in leg yields, and soon a nice and even canter. She didn’t grind her teeth, despite the unfamiliar rider on her back and the crowded arena. She didn’t even look tense. Felix took her through the first grid exercise at a trot, right next to Ferris and Annette. He picked up a canter after the grid and did a small circle near Ashe and Buck. Finally, he turned the mare back toward Sylvain and cantered her at him.

Sylvain’s heart raced and his vision clouded. He backed up, but it felt like he couldn’t get far enough away. He stumbled backwards and landed on his ass in the dirt. Sylvain was shaking.

Felix maintained the canter and then brought her to a short but soft halt just a few feet in front of him. “Yes, I can ride and train. But so can you.” Felix dismounted. He reached a hand out to Sylvain, who rejected it rather coldly as he stood back up and dusted himself off. Felix’s lips pursed as handed the reins back to Sylvain. “When you’re ready to behave like a professional and take some advice, we can try again.”

Sylvain took the reins and did his best to walk calmly out of the arena. The tension had crawled back in between his shoulder blades. He was grinding his own teeth a bit as he shut the arena gate behind Snapdragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to post this earlier this week, but I just started a new job and then I injured my eye, so it's been a rough week. I hope this chapter wasn't too horse-heavy for y'all. The next two chapters are gonna be emotionally intense. They've been tough to write. But I think y'all will really like them! There's a lot of good character work done. 
> 
> Also if you wanna interact with me, hit me up on Twitter! @wonderburrito


	5. Grab Mane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family tensions hit a boiling point in the Gautier household. Felix can handle the drama, but Sylvain is really good at pretending he can handle it. Sort of.  
> CW: homophobia

In his study just inside the front door sat Guillaume. He had his feet squarely on the floor, the way he almost never did unless he had something serious to talk about. The last time his feet had been like that, he had to talk to the family about his decision to formally retire from political office and pursue retirement and golf. Sylvain’s attempt to close the front door as quietly as possible had been for naught because Guillaume immediately set down the newspaper he was reading and calmly folded his arms across the desk. “Son, would you please join me here in the study for a few minutes?” His tone made it clear that this was not really a request.

Sylvain closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. His expressions and snarky attitude had already gotten him in trouble today, and he was feeling famished and fatigued, so this was self control that Sylvain rarely had to exercise. He slid out of his boots by the door and walked in his socks to his father’s study. He sat in the much less comfortable, shorter seat across from Guillaume. His father had furnished the space that way on purpose. “The man who looks down at the other always has more power,” he explained to Sylvain and Miklan when they were young. Sylvain considered how often he found himself looking up at Felix, especially lately and especially in bed.

“So,” Guillaume said, as though this blossoming confrontation was a daily occurrence. “Your mother and I have had several long conversations about this.”

“This?”

“You know. Your actions with the Fraldarius boy.” The way he said _actions_ and _Fraldarius_ carried the same tones with which Guillaume discussed brussels sprouts, paying vet bills, and root canals. “We’ve decided to forgive you––”

“Oh, you’ve decided to forgive me for something out of my control, is that it now?”

Guillaume’s fists tightened until his knuckles grew white and taught across his arthritic bones. “We’ve decided to forgive you if you make a public statement that you’re seeking therapy for your sins through the Church.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sylvain leaned back and looked around for the audience to his father’s horrid attempt at a comedy routine.

“Oh, you wouldn’t actually have to go through with that. Of course, your relationship with him would have to be strictly professional and nothing else.”

“Him? Dad, you’ve known Felix all his life. You don’t have to pretend. Didn’t you know you’re an abysmal actor?”

“Sylvain, that smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble you can’t talk your way out of. If you’re lucky, your mother and I might still be around to help you.”

“If I was lucky, I wouldn’t have you two for parents!”

“The ice is thinning quickly, Sylvain. You’re acting like a child.”

Sylvain could think of some thin ice his parents blissfully ignored. “Well, you raised Miklan and me––don’t give me that face. Miklan still exists; he didn’t evaporate because he fell out of your good graces. You raised us to stand up and fight for what we wanted. So now you’re going back on that?”

“I meant your career! Your education! Even those damn horses you and your mother have always been so fond of. I didn’t mean these lewd acts!”

Sylvain laughed loudly. “Lewd acts? Sort of like the way you pimped out your own children to gain political favors?”

“You bite your tongue this instant!”

“No, Dad. I won’t. And I’m not going to do what you’re asking.”

“Do you want to lose your place to live?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to lose your reputation? Not to mention that cushy pension you wrote into law for yourself?”

Guillaume’s face changed to one in shock, but only for an instant. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I mean, according to the Internet, my reputation’s already ruined. If anything, I’d get some pity out of revealing how you really got to where you are.”

“Sylvain Jose Gautier, you will do _no such thing_.” He stood up, though his stature had ceased its intimidation when Sylvain’s final growth spurt left him two inches taller than his father.

“That voice didn’t scare me when I was 15, and it doesn’t scare me at 25. I’ve got pictures. I’ve got names. Right now, I’m dodging calls from reporters like you dodge taxes. All it would take is one exclusive interview.”

Guillaume sat down. “This discussion isn’t over.”

“Feels pretty over to me.” Sylvain stood and left the room, heading up the stairs to find some solitude in the shower. He could hear Guillaume shout his name once, twice, and then silence.

Walking into the en suite bathroom, Sylvain stripped down to nothing and ran a cool shower. Once his hair and body were washed, he plugged the bath drain and switched from the showerhead to the bath faucet. Then Sylvain laid down in the cool water and let it fill until his chest was covered. The effect he was going for wasn’t exact, since he was too tall to fit completely flat in the tub, but he was able to lay in the cool water by himself for a while. Sylvain let his eyes close and his lungs pushed out all the air they held. He let his body slide down until his nose and mouth were below the surface of the water, and then he just waited. He waited to breathe past when his chest started to tighten and when his vision got staticky at the edges and even past the autonomic alarms in his body urging him to sit up just an inch or two. He let the darkness of the bathroom and the coolness of the water seep in.

When Sylvain opened his eyes, he knew he wasn’t entirely conscious. He was lucid in this dream, but only enough to be aware that it was a dream, or more accurately a memory. He was floating in the well behind at the top of the big hill at one of the farthest reaches of the Gautier estate. Sylvain was treading water but his arms burned from the exertion. Looking up, he could hear Miklan laughing as he looked down on Sylvain. “Miklan! It’s so cold! Please just let me out!”

Miklan shook his head. “You’ll be alright. If you keep moving, the water will heat up and it won’t freeze you!” He leaned back and disappeared from sight.

“Miklan!” Sylvain called. “Anyone! Please help!” But no one, especially not Miklan, came to his aide. And the ice started to form on the surface of the well, creeping closer and closer to Sylvain’s body. It got easier and easier to let the cold approach. Sylvain quit treading and relaxed his body, breathing out any air left in his lungs.

“Sylvain!” Felix said. He pulled Sylvain up from the tub. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The redhead blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself to reality. “Felix?”

Felix helped Sylvain out of the bathtub and handed him a towel. His hands were soft but his body was rigid, his hands almost harsh and tight.

“Now who needs to breathe?”

“That’s not funny. And it’s still you.”

“Alright, alright.” Sylvain sat down on the side of the tub and held a hand to his chest as he caught his breath.

“Do you want to let me in on what’s happening here? Because you’re not acting like yourself.” Felix sank down the wall until he was sitting next to Sylvain. His calves rested across Sylvain’s feet and he reached a hand up so it was resting on Sylvain’s knee.

“It’s been an eventful few days,” Sylvain said. He rested his free hand on top of Felix’s.

“Sylvain, you’ve been acting differently for almost the entire year. The last few days are just the first excuse you’ve had for that behavior.”

“Not the entire year!”

“Since we were staying together for winter circuit, yes, you absolutely have been.”

Sylvain thought back to their time in that house in the Empire, about waking up to Felix nearly every day and spending his days riding and training and competing. “I mean, I always get tense at shows. And this year was tense for all of us with trying to earn an invite to the Olympic trials.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then please explain.”

“I mean you’ve been impulsive, even by your standards. You’ve been reckless whenever I’m not around. You’re pushing your horses harder than you should because you’re looking to Snap and Buck and especially Gal to make up for what you’re leaving out, which seems to be your basic intelligence and self preservation instincts. You’re drinking a lot more. Ashe said you’ve been eating significantly less than usual. You’re not sleeping. Keeping on like this is going to get you killed, Sylvain.”

“That’s dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I just found you asleep in the bathtub in the dark. That water is freezing. What the hell am I supposed to think about that, Sylvain?”

“Well, that… That was just fatigue from getting up early.”

“Your heart was racing.”

“You caught me off guard!”

“Then why did I hear you say your brother’s name?”

Sylvain said nothing for a moment, trying hard to formulate an excuse. But the words weren’t there. There was no excuse.

“I don’t expect you to know the answers right now. What I do expect is that you’ll start taking care of yourself and actually get some help. You’re obviously dealing with something.”

Sylvain moved so that he was sitting next to Felix on the floor. His towel hung haphazardly off his hips. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Sylvain. I’m not looking for an apology. This is nothing _I_ need to forgive. You’re looking for me to say that it’s okay when it’s not. You have to get your shit together.”

Dropping his head to rest on Felix’s shoulder, Sylvain thought carefully about what Felix had said. The silence grew in the bathroom, expanding in the warmth growing in the contact between Sylvain’s ear and Felix’s shoulder. It was quiet enough that Sylvain could her Felix’s pulse echo quietly through the vessels in his body: rhythmic as Sammy’s collected trot, steady as Felix’s hands on the reins. It was soothing. “You’re right. And you’ve been subtly telling me this for months.”

“I have.”

“Okay. I’m going to take better care of myself.”

“And?”

“And? I’ll get up and go for runs with you and eat more and drink less and get actual sleep?”

“Sylvain. You need to talk to a counselor or a psychiatrist or a doctor or somebody trained to deal with this.”

“I can just talk to you––”

“No. I’m here to support you, but I’m not your therapist. Don’t make me resent you.”

“So if you’re not my therapist, then what are you?” Sylvain was glad for the chance in the conversation where he could take back control and tease Felix just a bit.

“Apparently dating a child.”

Sylvain winced but quickly laughed it off. “Poor choice of words, babe.”

Felix did not look as amused. “Are you even capable of having a serious conversation? Honestly.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I love you,” Felix said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Though Felix had told him enough times how he felt, it still managed to get the butterflies fluttering through his gut. “Only you could follow up an affirmation of love with a threat.”

# # #

Guillaume barely spoke the entire dinner. It was impressive. Sylvain was sure that he needed to keep spewing out hot air in order to prevent a nuclear meltdown, but that did not appear to be the case. He sat, fiddling with the noodles on his plate and gulping down enough wine for three people, glaring at the table.

“I saw you kids used the indoor arena today!” Adelaide said. She swirled the pinot around in her glass. “It’s hardly been used in years. Even when the snow is two feet high, Sylvie will just plow and level the outdoor arena.”

Every time Adelaide referred to her adult son as ‘Sylvie,’ he felt another hair on his head turn gray. “Because when you built it, Mom, you made it just so that we could putz around when the snow is bad. It’s not functional for training grand prix horses.”

“Oh, I’m sure Felix will be able to make use of it,” she said.

“Who says he’s staying that long?” Guillaume said. Before the shock of him finally speaking set in, the argument crescendoed as it entered its next movement.

“He can stay as long as he likes,” Adelaide spat back.

“You’re proposing he stay another four months to face the level of snow he’d need to not have outdoor space available.”

“What I’m proposing, darling, is _not losing another son_.”

Sylvain dropped his forehead into his hands and sighed heavily. “We’re really doing this again, aren’t we.” He spoke the words into his lap and the floor, though his intended audience was unclear.

“We have _no_ son,” Guillaume said.

“Sitting right here.”

“When did you become such a monster?” Adelaide escalated to shouting probably quicker than necessary.

“I did what I needed to do to keep the family comfortable––to maintain our status!”

“You did what you needed to keep yourself comfortable!”

Ashe and Annette exchanged looks, each one looking like they were planning a quick escape from this uncomfortable situation.

Felix, on the other hand, carried on like it was nothing. Never mind the words flying across the table. He didn’t want to eat cold spaghetti.

Instinctively, Sylvain reached for the bottle of pinot grigio, but he stopped when he felt Felix’s hand on top of his. Two sets of brown eyes, one coppery and pleading and the other amber and unrelenting, had a far more civilized conversation than the one taking center stage at this meal.

“That. That shit right there!” Guillaume shouted. A spoon covered in creamy sauce and bacon crumbles clattered across the table and slid into the stack of hands between Sylvain and Felix. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! I don’t want to see that!”

“Dad, I swear to Sothis––”

“Excuse me? We do not use such language in this house, Sylvain!”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Yes, we allow all manner of crimes, including embezzlement, abuse of minors, neglect, and prostitution, but we draw the line at using the goddess’s name.” He did his best to steel his gut, encouraged by Felix’s gentle hand squeeze.

“Sylvain!” Guillaume broke his glare for a moment to glance at Annette and Ashe. “Not in front of the help!”

“The _help_? Those are my friends!”

“That’s what you said about Felix!”

“Guillaume! You’re making a fool of yourself!”

“Shut your mouth, Adelaide!”

Sylvain nodded to a desperate looking Ashe.

Annette didn’t waste a second. She grabbed Ashe’s hand and they scurried from the dining room through the hall and out the front door.

Though Sylvain wasn’t surprised, he wished Felix would’ve left with them. No one needed to see this. This was not an unaverage night chez Gautier. Sylvain sat, staring across the table at his friends’ empty plates. He sighed when Felix’s free hand rested behind his back, giving him just one more anchor to stability. Though he was shorter than Sylvain, Felix had long limbs, so the stretch was comfortable for him while comforting for Sylvain.

“We won’t continue this discussion until you sit down and act your age, Gautier.” To say Adelaide plopped in her chair would be describing far too much grace in the action. As soon as her spine met the pillowed back of the dining table chair, she was reaching for her empty glass and the bottle of pinot. He legs kicked out as she fell into the seat and chugged.

“Better to be juvenile than suilline,” he said to his wife.

Sylvain had to think through his high school Latin class vocabulary. “Did you just refer to me as swine?”

Guillaume sat down, his chest expanding rapidly and deflating slowly. His expression softened for a second as he realized Sylvain actually retained some knowledge from one of those fancy schools he paid for.

“I’m not even mad; I’m impressed you used such a big word without paying someone else to write it down for you.”

Felix made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded as exasperated as his closed eyes and tightened lips looked.

Adelaide finished the wine.

Guillaume didn’t even look angry. He looked strangely calm. His wild, light-ginger-going-white covered his eyes in an uncharacteristically unkempt way. His jaw was unclenched. If it had been a photograph viewed by an uninformed viewer, they might think he even looked pensive or sad. Then he spoke: “Sylvain, whether it is by my hand or another, your mouth is going to be the end of you.” He stood up and began clearing the table.

“Oh, should I call _the help_ back for you, Father? Wouldn’t want you to strain a muscle.”

“Sylvain!” Adelaide interjected.

“Adelaide, let the boy prepare his own crime scene.” Guillaume dropped––literally, the bottom two plates fractured––the dinner dishes in the kitchen sink before returning to the table.

“Is that a threat or a prediction? Because I’ve got some gay shit to do later, and I need to know if I should reschedule or not.” Sylvain grinned through Felix’s heel stepping on his toes. He grinned even as Guillaume moved across the room like a freight train, huffing and puffing, picking up impulsion and weight with each step. The good china in the hutch behind the table rattled nervously.

“Listen, you ungrateful little shit,” he said as he grabbed the front of Sylvain’s shirt and hauled him up from his chair. Guillaume didn’t back off, even though he was looking up to compensate for their two-inch height difference. “I won’t tolerate this in my house!”

“Then leave,” Sylvain said. He was perfectly calm. “Like I said, all it would take is one interview and your reputation is as gone as Miklan.”

Guillaume growled like a dog. “Don’t you dare mention his name. He is dead to me.”

“Oh, but he’s your firstborn son! And he’s alive and well. I talked to him last week. He told me to be sure and give you and your golf buddies some sugar from him.” He winked and made a smoochy face.

Sylvain wasn’t even surprised by the slap, though he was a little impressed. Guillaume had managed to reopen the scab on his already bruised cheek. But when Sylvain just laughed and smiled at him, that was when the hand came back to his cheek as a punch. Guillaume sent it forward fast enough to knock Sylvain off balance.

The show jumper half fell, his unblemished cheek meeting the post on the back of one of the chairs. He stood back up and spat out the fluids in his mouth, a mix of blood and spit and a bit of stomach bile. Sylvain made a great effort to stand to the fullest extension of his spine so he had to really look down at Guillaume. “ _Miklan hit harder_.”

Guillaume cocked his fist back to swing again, but this time Felix stood between them. He threw up an open hand to catch Guillaume’s fist. “Enough,” he declared. Though he was still shorter than Guillaume, Felix had a scowl that could back down a bull elephant. “Take a walk, _sir_. You both need to cool off.” But Felix didn’t wait for Guillaume to leave; he grabbed Sylvain’s bicep and towed him out of the dining room, past Adelaide who sat quietly crying into her napkin.

As Sylvain stumbled up the stairs behind Felix, he heard the front door slam. It echoed through the whole house, shaking the pictures on the walls. Once they were in the safety of his room, Sylvain crumbled on the bed face first. His eyes closed tightly as he breathed metered breaths into the tousled quilt. He could hear Felix in the bathroom rummaging around in his cabinets, likely for first aid supplies. He could hear his father’s car burning out down the driveway. He could hear his mother sobbing still, down at the dining room table. What he couldn’t hear was the usual soundscape of the horses in the barn, safely resting with the occasional whinny or nicker between stalls. He missed those sounds. The night had been too disturbed to hear the usual noises.

“That was…something.” Felix sat down on the bed and placed a hand on Sylvain’s back.

Sylvain flinched, though it wasn’t obvious. The only reason it was noticeable was because Felix’s hand was on Sylvain’s back so the motion was impossible to disguise. “Yup,” he said into the bedding.

“I’ve seen shitshows at family dinners here, but that one may rank in the top five.” He gently rolled Sylvain over so that his head fell in Felix’s lap. Unfortunately for both of them, Felix was unable to hide his grimace as well as Sylvain had hidden his panic response just now. “Your face is your best feature. Don’t let it get so beat up.” He looked forlorn as his hands delicately pressed into the actively bleeding cheek.

“You had a different opinion last night,” Sylvain joked. Though he couldn’t easily smile or wink, the usual mirth still shaded his words. He could’ve laid his head in Felix’s lap for the rest of his life and never once find reason to complain.

Normally, Felix would have told Sylvain that he was being vulgar and to ‘fuck himself,’ to which Sylvain would reply that that was Felix’s job. But this was not a normal night for the pair. “I’m worried about you,” he said quietly.

Sylvain saw an expression he hadn’t seen on Felix’s face in a long time. It was the expression he wore when Sylvain first confided in Felix about the way his father had used Sylvain and Miklan to gain political favors, when Sylvain told Felix about the time Miklan had thrown a young Sylvain into the well on the property, when Felix found out Glenn’s cavalry unit was being shipped to Duscur in the midst of a bloody conflict between both countries. It was an expression Sylvain hated because he knew how much Felix hated experiencing it. Yes, it was concern, but more than that, it was helplessness. It meant that Felix had no immediate strategy or plan to address the problems. “We’ve faced worse,” Sylvain said.

“No. I haven’t.” He pulled the wash rag away from Sylvain’s cheek to see if it was still bleeding, which it was, so he immediately replaced it. “You didn’t say he was still physically violent.”

“He really hasn’t been. Not until that article came out.” Sylvain’s eyes strained against their anatomical limits to get a good look at Felix’s face. But between the range of his orbital flexibility and Felix’s bangs, that didn’t work out.

When Felix put his cool hand against the cheek that had met with the chair, he braced into the weight from Sylvain leaning into it. “Not that I’m condoning patricide, but you could easily beat him. Why did you stand there and take it? Why did you egg him on?” His fingers tensed into the skin of Sylvain’s face for an instant before they relaxed again.

“He just needs to blow off steam from time to time.”

“But that’s not how he should deal with it.”

“Felix, I promise you that I’ve been through––”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it again.” He lifted Sylvain’s head off his lap. “I’m going to get some ice for you and to make a phone call. Don’t drink any of the booze I saw in the bathroom.” He gently ran a hand through Sylvain’s hair before leaving the room.

Sylvain thought about the bottles waiting in the bathroom––just some cheap vodka in a plastic bottle. It had been there for years, perhaps questionable in its safety for human consumption now. Still, the buzz would dull the stinging in his face. He could so easily walk into the bathroom and just drink. And then he found his tired feet on the floor, walking that way. The old rug under his bed felt rough against his bare feet. But that roughness was quickly replaced by the worn path in the tiles on the bathroom floor, a path Sylvain had walked multiple times a night for years of his life. His hands gripped the counter as Sylvain examined his face. He turned to the left to see the bruise from the chair post on his right cheek, already red and purple and blue with the flesh warm from blood pooling beneath the surface of his skin. Long fingers reached out to touch the reflection and then withdrew to confirm the feelings in his own face. But the two did not feel the same. Sylvain turned to the right to examine the cheek his father had struck twice this week. It was slow to stop bleeding this time, probably because the wound had been reopened. Sylvain studied his hand with intensity as it smeared the blood across his cheek, the blood Felix worked so gently away. Looking at the matching smear on his fingers, Sylvain stepped away from the mirror and sat down on the bathroom floor. He wasn’t really sure what feeling word would describe the state he was in: his chest was bound tightly underneath barbed wire, like every breath caused more damage when the barbs punctured deeper, more thoroughly. His hands trembled, but when he pulled his knees to his nose and trapped his hands between his thighs and chest, his whole body trembled. Sylvain’s teeth found his plump lower lip and dug in, refusing to relinquish their grip on the tender and chapped flesh. It helped steady his body a bit.

When Felix returned, Sylvain wasn’t sure how long he had been on the floor of the bathroom, hiding underneath the towel rack and hanging towel. Felix looked alarmed when Sylvain wasn’t on the bed where he had left him previously, but as soon as he spotted Sylvain on the floor of the bathroom, there was visible relief on his face. His stern façade softened as he walked quickly, on his toes almost. He joined Sylvain on the floor. “The last time I found you like this was when Miklan got kicked out.”

“Yup.”

“And you didn’t want to talk about it then.” He handed Sylvain a dish rag filled with ice cubes and tied shut.

Sylvain pressed the checkered rag to his left cheek. “Still don’t.”

Felix’s sighs weren’t like other people’s. They were quiet and terse, much like Felix himself. They didn’t make a bold statement, but the point was understood all the same.

“Who’d you call?” Sylvain asked.

There was a hesitation before Felix answered. “My father.” It was unlike Felix to turn to Rodrigue for anything, much less call him up for a casual chat and check in.

“What’s that about?”

Felix cast his eyes up toward the bathroom counter, unfocused on anything but pointedly avoiding Sylvain seeking eye contact. “Just updating him.”

There was a feeling in Sylvain’s stomach then, one he hadn’t experienced since childhood. It was the one that feared the consequences of actions, feared his father’s wrath. It felt like the floor of his stomach tried to climb out his esophagus and it was always followed by his lungs shoving his stomach back into its place. Like Miklan shoving Sylvain back into his place.

“I didn’t go into detail. Just letting him know that we may swing by the house for a few days because you’re not safe here.”

“That’s an over exaggeration,” Sylvain said.

“Sylvain, I swear if I hear you say that you’ve been through worse one more time, I’ll show you ‘worse’ myself.”

“Really. This is normal.”

“You have to quit blowing this off. Even after Mother died, even after Glenn died, my father and I had a strained relationship. And we fought. But he never hit me. Even after that stupid article.” Felix laid his head on Sylvain’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s torso. He scooted closer so there was no space between them. “I can’t lose you too, especially to something I can prevent.”

Sylvain swallowed what felt like an actual rock in his throat, staying silent as its rough edges scraped through his body. That barbed wire around his chest feeling had intensified.

“Since when do you have nothing to say?”

Maintaining his quiet, Sylvain gave a tiny shrug. He didn’t want to disturb Felix.

Felix looked up anyway, wiping away the couple of tears that had slipped free of Sylvain’s eyelids. “Hey,” he said in possibly the warmest and most caring voice Felix had ever used. “You’re going to be okay. It won’t be easy, but you’re going to be fine.”

“If we go to your place,” Sylvain started. His throat was tight. “I am going to worry about Gal the whole time. And Snap and Buck, but especially Gal. I don’t want to trailer her on that tendon while we’re trying to heal it.” Fighting back the tears felt like wrestling a bear.

“Ashe and Annette are experts. The herd would be fine with them.” Felix sat up, keeping his arms around Sylvain. “We don’t have to go right away. It’s just a fallback.”

“I don’t want to leave my mom. I don’t think she’d be safe.”

“Okay, now you’re being irrational.”

“Felix, he’s so awful. I know if I wasn’t around, he’d be hitting her.” Sylvain was quickly losing the battle, his defensive perimeter effectively breeched. The bear was closing in. If Sylvain couldn’t protect his loved ones, who was he? “You heard the way he spoke to her.”

“I know, Sylvain.” Felix helped the taller to his feet and led him to bed.

“I don’t want to be responsible for my mom getting hurt too.” Sylvain sat down on the bed only because Felix pushed repeatedly on his shoulders. He was trembling again. “Miklan took more than enough beatings for me. You know why? Because I was the prettier one, the one who guaranteed my dad every bit of power he’s ever had.”

Felix laid back against the pillows and pressed Sylvain’s head into his chest. It was all he could do as Sylvain finally let himself cry.

And cry he did. Sylvain cried until Felix’s shirt was damp, until his throat was raw and scratchy, until his eyes produced no more tears. He fell asleep with Felix’s hand rubbing his scalp through his mess of red hair, face still planted to Felix’s chest. The calm rhythm of Felix’s heartbeat lulled him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! This chapter was really hard to write because it really hit close to home for me. I hope the fluff makes up for it. It certainly helped me feel better. I'm about halfway through the next chapter and it's also breaking my heart, so I'm going to try to post 6 and 7 together so I don't give y'all two melancholy updates in a row. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! Your kind words and kudos have meant a lot to me in a time that I really need the support, so consider this my kudos to all of you wonderful people. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. I'm Sylvix trash and I got bored and doodled Felix as a dressage rider one day, and this whole fic sort of happened from there. So thank you for giving this a read. If any of the horse sports stuff isn't clear, please let me know! I'm happy to explain. I tried to keep it from getting too technical, but I've been working around horses for so long that I forget what is common knowledge and what isn't.
> 
> I've outlined this fic, and it's gonna be pretty long... So I hope you'll stick with me! Any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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